


Egeo Fides (Without Promise)

by Maygra



Series: To Make of Heaven, Earth [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: ATF, M/M, Second in the To Make of Heaven Earth arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-21
Updated: 2001-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Notes: Vaguely follows "Saving Grace" although I think you can read this without absolutely having to read that first -- a couple of references but nothing of importance. (There's an arc building in here somewhere...I can feel it trying to sneak up on me. ) Disclaimers: The Magnificent 7 concepts and characters are the property of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, TNN, The Mirisch Corp., and probably a few writers and producers as well. Not mine. Never said they were. Ratings/Pairings: NC-17, slash, violence. Chris/Vin</p><p>Many thanks to MOG for the universe and her open door policy. Thanks to Killa and to Gayle and Marilyn for encouragement. It's unbeta'd -- applications are now being taken.... As always, comments of any kind are welcome, criticism will be respected and flames will be snickered at and dissected for content, grammar and originality. Send your words to maygra@bellsouth.net.</p><p> </p><p>References: District three http://csp.state.co.us/offices.htm</p></blockquote>





	Egeo Fides (Without Promise)

# Egeo fides (Without Promise)  
by Maygra 

Part One

"You already put money on this Buck?" Chris asked, staring at what had to be the God-awful ugliest thing masquerading as a boat he'd ever seen.

Buck grinned broadly. "I did. It's all mine. Got it for a song...like stealing."

"You might want to rethink who got robbed," Vin told him walking around the side of it and shaking his head.

"Hey now, it just needs a little paint and some cleaning up," JD said, Chris pretty sure the youngest of them was parroting Buck's remarks. "Hull's sound, engine needs...some work."

"Just think of it...warm nights, sitting on the back there, watching the moon over the water," Buck said, smiling and closing his eyes, seeing it in his mind. Chris glanced at Vin who was doing all he could not to laugh out loud.

"Waiting for it to sink, more like," Vin said.

It was a houseboat and surely once it had been a lovely queen of the waterways - maybe twenty-five years ago. It was an interesting mix of aqua and pink paint, the strut work on the back deck rusting despite what had to be years of white paint over the iron and the fake grass on the exposed surfaces had faded to an interesting shade of pale yellow. Chris didn't know that stuff could fade. Right now the whole thing was sitting on a trailer that looked equally as likely to fall apart from rust if they tried to move it.

"Gonna remember that, Tanner, when you want to take her out," Buck warned. "I know it looks bad but it just needs some paint. Go on, go inside. Go on, Chris."

"Sleeps six," JD said climbing up ahead of them. "On the beds inside but more -- could spread out sleeping bags or cots." Vin followed him up, adjusting for the canted angle of the trailer.

"Where are you going to put it, Buck?" Chris asked, walking around the outside. It really did look like a disaster waiting to sink.

"Wellll...," Buck said. "Wanted to talk to Vin about that...since he's got that nice lake and all," he said, cutting his eyes to Chris.

Chris only grinned and shook his head. "You...not on my dime, brother. You'll have to ask him yourself."

"Only for a little bit, until I find someplace else. Be a nice place to work on it. And he could use it, of course."

"Uh huh," Chris said and stopped at the bow, raising his eyebrow at Buck. "'The Silken Lady'? Somebody named their houseboat 'the silken lady'?"

"I like that name!" Buck said, tracing over the letters.

"You would. Buck, you didn't buy this piece of ...overpriced pleasure because of the name?" Chris asked but knowing it was such a Buck thing to do.

"I did not. But I liked it. It's what got me up here. I really did get it for a song, Chris. Three grand. That's it."

Chris ducked down, looking under the trailer for holes in the hull. "You can't hardly get a berth for her for that in a year. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing...I mean not with the boat. Needs...an engine though."

Chris looked at him. "An engine."

Buck looked a little defiant and Chris kept his expression neutral, slightly disapproving. Yanking Buck's chain over this was too good an opportunity to waste.

"Yeah. But I can get one."

"So you paid three grand for a ...pool float."

Now Buck looked offended. "I'm already looking into getting a new one put it in. Checking out places to berth her. But I haven't got one yet and ...well, I got to get her out," he said looking around. The house itself was a deserted and recently Buck had said. They were laying a cross cut road between Interstate 25 and Highway 14 and the owner of the property and the boat had already moved out.

"With my truck," Chris said, sounding annoyed but he wasn't, not really and he was checking the trailer. It looked like crap but a check on the hitch and tires proved it to be pretty sound.

"You got a hitch," Buck pointed out. "You said you'd help..." he reasoned.

"I was thinking it was a boat, Buck...not a-- " Chris looked up. "White elephant."

"Now, Chris," Buck started, sounding a little desperate and Chris grinned at him.

"You're gonna owe me big, Bucklin."

Vin came out, leaning on the rail, watching Buck sputter a little. "He's right. It's better inside...no rust."

Surprisingly enough, Vin said yes without too much argument -- warning Buck it had to be gone by the first freeze or come spring he'd be dredging the lake for it. Buck let out a holler of joy and Vin just shook his head, jumping down to help Chris with the hitching.

"You said yes pretty fast," Chris said.

"Like boats," Vin said with a small smirk. "Cabin's got a skylight too," he said more quietly, but gave Chris a look. "Bed's not bad. You with your aching back and all," he said and Chris smiled and shook his head.

"You only got one thing on your mind, Tanner?"

"Mostly, yes. When I'm not working," Vin said and then hopped over the hitch to hook up the taillights.

Chris shook his head but grinned, watching Vin move, his eyes lingering on the tight, snug way the faded jeans clung to Tanner's ass when he dropped to a crouch to hook up the wiring. He might have to check out the bed in the cabin after all, he thought then laughed at himself. Chances were they'd get the damn thing in the water and it would sink. He made sure the boat wasn't likely to shift on the trailer and waited while Vin tested the blinker and brake light hook ups. His truck could handle the load and it wasn't oversized, but the trip back to Denver was likely to take them twice as long as it had taken them to get up to the Red Feather Lakes area. Once they loaded up, he actually got a bit less drag than he'd expected.

"Be dark before we get back," Chris warned checking his speed. "We can stop in Loveland."

"Works for me," Buck said, from the front seat although he was twisted around as if afraid Chris might lose the trailer and its cargo on the twisting roads. Behind him he could see Vin and JD on the smaller second seat.

It was a great way to spend a Saturday, Chris decided, listening more than participating as the three of them talked about the work that needed to be done on the behemoth behind them. Vin pointed out that Buck was going to be spending a lot more than three grand to get a new engine mount. JD was already on about the newest navigational arrays -- and Chris had to laugh at him. What JD wanted to see installed would be good for a much bigger boat on a larger body of water -- like a cruise liner.

Chris geared down, hitting an incline and a curve, only glancing at the drop off to the side and then looked up and swore. "Hang on!" he said just as Vin called his name.

The panel truck coming down the slope was riding the center line, the van behind it dogging him, looking like it wanted to pass but not doing it. Chris had to swerve -- the other truck not giving way or slowing down and Chris only got a glance at it, feeling the trailer sway and slide, the tires hit the shoulder as Chris fought the truck and extra weight and drag to keep both on the road. He sounded his horn by reflex and got noise in response and the rough bumps as they hit the shoulder.

He managed it, glad he'd been gearing down, gladder still he hadn't been going any faster or they'd have been over the side and down the ravine.

There was silence in the truck for a few moments when they stopped, nothing but a little heavy breathing and Chris blinked, seeing Buck still clutching the dash. "Shit," Chris said softly. "Idiot...anybody get a look?"

"Harmon's Salvage...that's what the panel said," JD said after a moment.

"Too fast to get a plate..." Vin said and Chris met his eyes in the rearview. "He was in a hell of a hurry."

"Buck, see if you can get the state patrol before that asshole kills somebody," Chris said, easing the truck back onto the road.

Buck tried, using his cell phone and got through as Chris hit the top of the incline, an open cut and a Scenic View rest stop to the side.

Buck made it official, nodding at Chris. "No turn offs behind us. They'll catch him at the bottom. Said there's a service station up ahead -- they want a statement from JD. If we can wait."

Chris sighed but nodded. It would put another delay in the trip but it would be worth it.

"Chris, pull over!" Vin said and without even questioning it, he did so, glancing back to see Vin staring out the widow. The minute the truck stopped, Vin was out, running back toward the overlook, vaulting the low brick wall, JD right behind him.

Vin hit the ground going to his knees, hands on something Chris thought was trash at first. It wasn't. It was a body and Vin was checking the man carefully. Grey work shirt and jeans, brown hair -- couldn't be more than Vin's age, Chris thought.

"He's alive," Vin said, looking up. There was blood on the man's shirt at the collar and the shirt itself had "Harmon's Salvage" embroidered in blue on the shirt.

"I'll get the first aid kit and some water," JD said and ran back to the truck while Buck called the state patrol again.

"Easy. Easy," Vin said quietly as the man started to come around. Chris knelt on the opposite side. "Thought I saw something move as we drove past but I wasn't sure."

"Lucky for him you've got a good eye," Chris said and then both he and Vin had to restrain the man as he came to full consciousness and started to struggle. "Ease up, son. Here to help. We're with the ATF," he said and pulled his wallet, showing him the ID. "What's your name?"

The man jerked a little then tried to sit up again. "H...Hank Davis. What...they took the truck," he said and tried to sit up. Vin eased his grip and helped him.

"Who did?" Chris asked as JD returned with the first aid kit. Vin offered Davis some water while JD tried to figure out if the wound was bad enough to need a call for an ambulance.

"Thought it was an accident. Van on the side of the road, looked like it slid. One fella down...Checked it out and they jumped me...," Davis said. He fingered the wound at the back of his head and winced.

"Concussion at least," JD said and let Vin hold a gauze pad to the still bleeding wound.

"What was your cargo?" Chris asked, Buck hovering just past Vin's shoulder.

"Salvage -- army surplus," David said. "Uniforms, rations, guns. Mostly World War two but there was some newer stuff. I don't know it all. It's on the manifest but...I just drive."

Chris bit his lip. "How many guns and what was your route?"

"Ft. Collins to Walden. Can't tell you how many... a few cases, maybe ten. There were four of them -- four guys. I make this run a few times a year, moving stock from one store to the other."

Chris sat back on his heels for a moment glancing down the road, then nodded. "We can get you an ambulance. Got some troopers meeting us a few miles up the road."

Davis shook his head, gingerly. "I'm okay...just hit me on the head," he smiled, a little wanly. "Been told I have a hard one."

Chris grinned at that. "All right. If you're up to it, we'll give you ride up, get the state patrol to take you to a doctor if you need one."

"Lucky you fellas came along. It would have been a long hike," Davis said. He let Chris and Vin help him to his feet. He was unsteady for a minute but it passed.

"I'll take the back," Vin offered, jumping into the open bed of the pickup so Davis could grab a seat.

Davis didn't have much more to tell them: worried about the cost to his company, his job. Chris was far more worried about the guns.

The troopers were there and Anderson's Service station which was a bit more than that with a garage and convenience store, Chris pulling truck and boat off to one side. The troopers met them and did call up the paramedics, despite Davis' objections.

"They get the truck?" Chris asked one of them, who shook his head.

"Nothing's come down -- couple of cars and they checked them. Watch commander's already called up some more. No way to get truck that size off this stretch. There's no crossroads."

"I saw something looked like a turn off," Vin said. "Back about eleven miles or so."

"Will be in a year or so. They are laying a new cut through to 25 but it's been delayed. Everything off this road ends a few hundred feet off. Next road is a good five miles up." The trooper said.

Vin looked thoughtful, staring down the road.

"What are you thinking?" Chris asked.

"I'm thinking that you might not be able to get a truck like that off road, but there are others you could, if you had one waiting," Vin said, shifting his gaze to Chris' face.

Chris was giving serious thought to the fact that he and Vin were sharing a brain at times. "Wouldn't take much. Ten cases...fit in the back of a pickup. Get the trailer unhitched," he said and Vin nodded. Chris walked up to where the troopers were questioning Davis and JD, Buck standing close by. Chris beckoned him over.

"Vin and I are going to take a drive back down, see if we can figure out where they've turned off. Need you to get on the horn to the office. Get a manifest from Davis' company. I want to know what kind of weapons were in that load and how many."

"You gonna let the troopers in on this?" Buck asked.

"Yeah. I'll have my phone. We'll let you know what we find. Shouldn't take us more than an hour -- need you to stick here so we can report back."

Buck didn't look entirely happy but he nodded, lifting his head as they heard sirens approaching and an EMT van pulled into the parking lot. "You two just remember to call for help if you need it."

"Just looking for clues, Buck. Not trouble," Chris said and grinned when Buck snorted. Chris checked on Vin and saw the trailer unhitched, waving before he went to talk to the trooper, listening to his partner ask Davis questions and drew him aside.

Watch commander had the same idea it turned out and had already ordered his men to start from the bottom of the incline and work up.

Vin was in the truck already, and gave a wave to Buck as Chris got in and pulled out. Chris handed Vin his cell phone. "Have to call Buck and let him relay which ones we've checked." Chris headed down the slope, past the lookout where they'd found Davis and where they'd first seen the truck.

The first possible cut off went in about a hundred yards and stopped, Vin unable to see anything that would indicate a heavy truck or a van passing. The only part of the track that was cut up at all was the entrance -- probably from people pulling in and turning around. The second track was much the same, but the third looked to have more recent use and Chris checked his mileage, pulling off the road and letting Vin out. It only took him a minute.

"Tracks go deeper. Looks like the construction site that trooper was talking about. I'm going to walk it in."

"Be right behind you," Chris said, putting the truck in first and following Vin at a snail's pace, eyes checking the sides.

It was wider and hard packed, unlike the leaf covered other tracks they'd checked. Dirt and gravel crunched under the tires then became mostly dirt, deep ruts left over from the rains even though the ground was dusty dry now. Vin stopped, going to the side of the track, squatting down to check some low bushes before coming back to the truck and leaning in the window. "Something recent," he said quietly. "Branch breaks are fresh."

Chris nodded and picked up his phone, calling Buck. "We're at the third cut on the north side, below the overlook, about three and four tenths miles."

"We'll meet you there," Buck said. "Wait for us, Chris."

"We'll be careful," Chris said and turned the phone off and glanced at Vin. "Let's scout in another hundred yards or so," he said, peering through the windshield to where the track curved. They had seen neither van nor truck.

Vin nodded turning back toward the track when Chris stopped him, reaching under his seat and pulling out his gun. Vin took it and checked the clip, keeping it loose in his hand as he followed the tracks left.

The cut widened, dirt pack laid in and Vin stayed in front of the Ram, eyes to the ground and then stopped at another curve, holding his hand up and crouching again. Chris could only see the back of his head, Vin looking for something, then he walked forward some more pulling the gun high and tight to his shoulder, barrel pointing skyward and Chris tensed. But Vin was just being cautious, not alert to anything and a moment later Chris saw why as they rounded the curve.

The van was there, back doors open and unoccupied. Chris stopped the truck and got out, moving with Vin to check it out.

"Think they are long gone," Vin said softly and checked the watch at his wrist. "They've had a good forty minutes or so to clear out. That's a lot of distance. Four guys, ten cases of guns if that's all they wanted."

"Wanna bet this van's shows up on someone's stolen vehicle list?" Chris said.

Vin chuckled. "I wouldn't event take that bet with Ezra. Truck has to be around here somewhere," he added kicking the dirt. "This is newer fill...not as packed."

Chris scanned the area. The trees were densely packed and full in late summer.

"I'm going to head up a bit more," Vin said and started walking.

Chris felt uneasy but he got in the truck, trying to keep his eyes on Vin's white T-shirt and the surrounding area simultaneously. Ten minutes later the track opened up, and Vin stopped, close to the protection of the trees.

Construction equipment stood idle, the broad dirt pack spreading out more where the DOT was trying to provide enough fill to cross a shallow but broad valley. Bulldozers and Bobcats were parked along one side, piles of gravel on the other, waiting to be mixed. On the opposite side he could see the green and black truck, the back open, the cargo or some of it still inside.

Vin moved up carefully, keeping to the cover the heavier equipment offered, Chris still pacing him, then moved the truck across, into the open. He didn't like Vin being so exposed and he was, if anyone was watching. Vin rolled his eyes but made his crossing behind the Ram and Chris slid out, sure Vin was watching his back and climbed inside, surveying what was left. Ration boxes, cardboard boxes, piles of surplus blankets. No signs of crates or cases that would hold guns although Chris supposed they could be packed differently. He didn't want to touch anything, not without a forensics team and they could have one here.

Vin was checking the tracks, footprints packing the dirt but he got a few. "I'm going to see if I can pick up whatever they used to get away in," he said and Chris nodded, heading back to the truck to call Buck. He kept one eye on Vin as his partner stalked around the front of the transport, then along the edge of the fill mound. The ground was soft enough that even Chris could have picked up tracks, but Vin might better be able to tell him where and how long ago. He paced back and forth for a moment, looking at something and then out before heading back to Chris.

The first bullet hit the ground a few feet behind Vin, and he twisted, returning fire out past the tree line and the transport truck as Chris gunned the engine and swung the Ram around to put it between Vin and the gunman. Vin staggered and turned, almost going down, bright red blossoming on the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"Vin!" Chris screamed, making sure his partner saw him. He did and ran, Chris keeping the truck moving. The glass in the window of the extended cab behind him exploded and Chris paused just long enough for Vin to grip the door of the truck and pull himself through the open window. Another bullet hit, thwapping solidly on the frame and sent a fracture across the windshield.

Reaching across, Chris grabbed Vin's arm and pulled, getting him the rest of the way into the cab. He floored the engine, wheels spinning momentarily in the soft dirt and Chris nearly lost control as the window on his side shattered as well, covering them both with glass.

He swung the truck around, ready to head back, call up reinforcements and get them the hell out here before one or both of them got killed.

"Chris!" Vin cried out warning, then was firing, out the open window, almost pressed back against Chris' side to brace himself from being tossed around the cab. Chris only had second to look, swearing as he tried to maneuver away from the drop and out of the line of the bulldozer bearing down on them.

It hit them mid way along the body at about 5 mph, but the tractor had traction the Ram didn't and the truck jerked and slid. The Ram's metal frame shrieked and scraped and shook and part of the back widow gave. The driver kept going, pushing the truck closer to the construction drop, even after Vin shattered the windshield. The power behind the bulldozer and the loose dirt gave Chris nothing to work against, the engine screaming, but they were tilted upward on the passenger side, Vin cursing as his injured arm hit the steering wheel and then they were rolling and tipping, the earth giving way like a mini landslide and carrying them with it as the Ram was pushed off the edge of the dirt ramp and slid down the steep grade.

The Ram rolled once, tossing them and the contents of cab around like so much salad, before it came to rest at the bottom of the slope, on its side, with Chris and Vin tangled up against the driver's side door. Chris didn't think he'd lost consciousness but he couldn't be entirely sure, his leg and left arm twinged painfully and Vin was almost upside down on top of him, halfway sprawled across the back seat.

And the maniacs were still up there with more guns than they had.

"Vin!" Chris snapped, hearing his partner groan and move. "Out the window," he said, and Vin shifted until he was more or less the right way up. Chris got his own feet untangled from the steering wheel and petals, pushing aside the map case he kept in the truck, the first aid kit, empty cups.

Vin pushed up, grabbing the window frame and Chris helped, not liking the amount of blood now staining Vin's arm and shirt. Suddenly Vin fell back, coughing and choking as dirt fell through the open widow, knocking Vin down and covering them both. Shaking his head to clear the dirt from his eyes, Chris looked up. Another wash of dirt came in, Chris protecting his face from it.

They had the scoop on the bulldozer working, pushing loose dirt over the edge, trying to bury the truck and them with it.

"Son of a bitch!" Chris snarled, trying for the window himself. A bullet pinged off the side, then another, until he was forced back

"They're gonna bury us," Vin choked out, voice unsteady.

"They will if we don't get out of here!" Chris said then had to pull back and more bullets hit the frame followed by more dirt -- already enough to cover the entire passenger side and more coming. Chris lunged again, this time to roll up the window, ducking as the loose earth poured in around them until he got the window up. The next push and the dirt covered it. It was getting darker, dirt piled up around the dash and over the truck bed. Chris forced himself to breathe deeply, pressing the cab top, glancing at the fractured windshield, praying it would hold as another wave of dirt washed over them, blocking out the light save for a small corner of the front windshield. Then that was gone as well and the sound of falling dirt and stone got more muffled. Chris reached out and found Vin's arm, then his hand, slick and cool and Vin was breathing shallow and fast. He squeezed Vin's arm, understanding the unsteady breathing. It was too close, too small, and Vin liked neither, his claustrophobia more aggravated than Ezra's fear of heights.

"Vin..." Chris said, whispering because it was too terrifying to speak any louder. "Just hang on...we'll get out. Breathe, pard. Deep and easy 'cause I'm going to need you." And even as he said it, he wasn't sure how much time they'd have with the air in the cab. "Buck'll be looking for us."

"They're burying us..." Vin said again, the strangled sound in no way recognizable as his lover's voice. Chris reached up and fumbled, found the dome light, praying the roll over hadn't twisted or broken the connections to the battery. It hadn't and the light helped some -- helped him. He wasn't so sure it did with Vin.

He was pale and filthy. How much of the paleness was from blood loss and shock and how much was reaction to Vin's not so minor claustrophobia Chris wasn't sure. Neither one of them could really stand and Vin was crouched down in the rear cab, back to the roof, staring up at the dirt on the window. Chris twisted a little, caught his face and forced Vin to look at him. "Breathe, Vin. We'll get out," Chris said firmly and looked around and down, found one of the water bottles. Well, they wouldn't die of thirst or hunger. The contents of the cooler were spread all over.

He popped the cap, handed the bottle to Vin. "Here..." he said and Vin took it, blinking and swallowing, before taking a sip. He looked like he was going to pass out. Chris stroked his hair, brushed out some of the dirt and kept his hand on Vin's neck and tried to listen.

If they were still pushing dirt, he couldn't tell. The frame creaked and there was a soft splintering sound as the glass of the windshield adjusted to the pressure. If it gave, they'd be hip deep in dirt. Or deeper.

Chris rubbed at his face and his hand came away bloody from a cut above his eye. He looked around, glanced at Vin and found the first aid kit. "Let me look at your arm," he said.

Vin shook his head, pressed back against the metal, trying to do as Chris had instructed, breathing slow and deep but his intake kept hitching. "We need to get out."

"We will," Chris said softly, catching his face again. "I need to make sure they are gone. Let me see your arm."

"Now, Chris," Vin said shifting, eyes wide and pupils dilated, ready to go through the windshield if he had to.

"Vin," Chris caught him, blocked him from coming over the back of the seat. "Listen to me! They have guns...We get out and they'll cut us down."

"Better that than being buried," Vin gasped.

"We aren't gonna be," Chris said flatly. "Hang in there. Just a little longer."

Vin stared at him, trying to calm down, the effort visible. "Wh-- what are we going to do?"

Chris nodded. "Find out how deep we are first, Need the map case." He found it, pulling the end off and digging his Leatherman out of his pocket to cut off the other end. He was sweating when he was done, the air getting close. "Need to get the window open enough to get this out."

"Dirt'll come in," Vin said, watching him.

"Some. Like an avalanche, only we know which way is up," Chris said. "Keep to the back," he warned. He stood as much as he was able, cranking the window down about three inches. Dirt poured in, loose and steady, but soft and Chris was glad of that -- if it were more densely packed they might not be able to dig out. It poured through the end of the case as well, and Chris only had about four feet of casing to get a guess at and they'd need it fast. Vin made a small sound as the dirt covered Chris' boots, but didn't move, gripping the back of the seat and the tangled seat belt with white knuckled hands, his eyes closed when Chris glanced back worriedly. "Hang on, Vin," Chris said again and got a nod of Vin's head.

He was almost at the end of the tube when the dirt stopped trickling out of it. "Give me the cooler top," Chris said and held the case in place while Vin fumbled for it then handed it over. Chris got a face full of dirt as he worked it out the crack in the window and then over it, stopping any more dirt from falling in. He ducked down a bit, wiped his face and peered up the tube, letting out the breath he'd been holding when he saw daylight.

And they had air. He settled back in a crouch again, the dirt almost up to his calves. He searched the dirt around him then touched Vin's arm. "Hunt around. There was a line of rope under the seat. We're gonna need it."

"What for?" Vin asked, sounding out of breath, and Chris twisted again, once more putting his hands to the sides of Vin's face, until the blue eyes opened and met his.

"We can't both fit out the window together," Chris said keeping his voice steady. "It's only about four feet of dirt. Loose dirt. When I open the window, you push through the dirt and get your feet on the frame. You should be able to just stand up and be clear of it. Rope'll help me find my way up after you...Cab's likely to fill up pretty quick once we open that window."

Vin's eyes darted to the window, to the dirt covering the glass, and wrapped one hand around Chris' wrist. "Not sure I can...do this."

"Yeah, you can. I'll be right behind you, pushing. Four feet, Vin. Like swimming. See if you can find the rope back there," Chris said brushing a thumb over Vin's lips. "You just have to climb and stand up, that's it."

Vin nodded but he didn't look certain at all. Chris pulled him close, pressed his lips to Vin's and kissed him softly. "We're gonna get out. I swear it. I'll get you out. We just need to give it a little time -- make sure they are gone."

"I believe you. This is just..." Chris could feel the shudder run through Vin, his skin damp from sweat and not all of it from the close air.

"Four feet," Chris said.

Vin nodded again and then squatted, feeling through the dirt to find the rope. Chris hunted around as well, finding the gun, and checked it. Four rounds only. He found JD's backpack and shoved the gun in, two of the water bottles and the first aid kit and slung it over his back. They'd have to hike back to the highway.

"Got it," Vin said, pulling the rope free.

Chris took it and worked one end into a harness and handed it to Vin, then the other, working it around his own waist and chest. He watched Vin carefully, a little shaken himself to see how badly the normally rock steady hands of Team 7's sharpshooter were shaking -- like an old man with palsy. Vin was still breathing too shallowly, every few moments remembering and taking a deeper breath. Chris tilted his head up, still trying to listen. They needed to give it time because crawling out of this with their shooter still up there would get both of them killed.

Forcing Vin to wait when he was coiled tight like a frightened deer ready to bolt was hard. Vin would twitch, close his eyes and force himself not to move, not to jerk away. If he was in pain from his wound he made no sign of it, panic pushing all other feelings and distractions away. Chris kept contact and talked him through it, reminding him there was air. It worked for a few minutes but Vin was getting more agitated, licking his lips nervously every time a little bit of the dirt would trickle in around the cooler lid or the truck frame would creak.

"Let's go," Chris said and gave Vin a little shake. Glass crunched under their feet as Vin moved around the upended seat back, taking a deeper breath when Chris reached for the window crank.

Vin gripped his arm and Chris stopped. Vin was waxy pale, lips bloodless, his eyes so dilated Chris couldn't see anything save a rim of blue. "I can't...Chris..."

He couldn't. Chris might be able to talk him around but Vin was holding onto what control he had by the skin of his teeth. "All right...I'll go first," Chris said. "You may need to hold your breath and you have to get your head and shoulders through as soon as I'm through. You understand? I'll get you out but you have to get that much of yourself through the window."

Vin nodded quickly, almost shaking and Chris pulled him close, feeling Vin clutch at him. "Out soon. I promise."

Vin actually managed a smile, then gave Chris some room.

Chris held the cooler lid in place as long as he could and took a deep breath of his own before he let it fall. The dirt coming through almost knocked him back but he pushed upward, getting a foot on the steering column and the back of the seat, tucking his head as he pulled himself up.

Worse than an avalanche. Loose or not, the dirt was heavy and damp, not giving easily as snow would as he tried to displace it. He could get his head and shoulders through the window, the dirt closing in around him but he could find no leverage.

Then he felt Vin pushing his leg, against his ass, giving him the leverage he needed to get one leg through and against the truck frame. It was still tough to move but he did, forcing himself to stand and straining for oxygen until his head broke free and he sucked in fresh air.

But he was mired. There was nothing to grab on to, to pull himself free and he pushed at the dirt, moving it away from him, knowing the dirt he was displacing was falling into the cab. He could feel Vin's hand on his calf, then under his foot, still pushing and he struggled, finally squirming and wriggling enough to get on his side, but it took forever and Chris was sweating heavily by the time he rolled clear and grabbed the rope end.

"Chris! Chris!" Buck's voice and he looked up, saw he and JD on the mound above.

"Buck!" he screamed it, pulling the rope and trying to get back, get some leverage again and watched the hole created by his climb fill in again. "Buck! Help me! Vin's underneath!"

That was all he had air or strength for, the rope going taut and then not budging. If Vin were caught, if he hadn't manage to get his head out...Chris couldn't think about it, kicking at the dirt to clear it some, but trying to get to his feet only made the dirt fall into the depression more.

"Chris?" Buck was closer, and Chris leaned back, straining every muscle and thought he felt the rope give some. Buck was sliding down the hill, JD right behind him

"Grab the rope! Grab it and pull!" Chris snapped out and Buck did.

It felt like Vin was caught and Chris was ready to give it up and start digging when he felt the rope give some more then again, dead weight at the end of it, but weight. He pulled and felt Buck and JD take up the slack and pull harder, all three of them straining and Buck digging his heels in to pull back on ground less like to give way. Chris saw the emergence of a paler color and lunged forward. "Keep pulling!" he yelled, flopping forward on his belly to reach for Vin, getting a hand under his shoulder and dug into the dirt until he could grab Vin's belt and pull. It got easier as the dirt let loose its hold on Vin's body.

Then he was clear, limp and covered in dirt and Chris flipped him onto his back, wiping his face.

"Chris," Buck said quietly and urgently, stripping off his shirt and wiping Vin's face, eyes darting over the caked blood at his sleeve. "He's not breathing," he said, listening although he could feel a pulse, faint, too fast.

"They buried the truck," Chris said, "Might still be around," he warned, pulling Vin's head back. Buck was there first, bending over the pale face, pressing his mouth to Vin's and forcing air into his lungs. It only took a few breaths before Vin choked, gagged and sucked air. Buck and Chris helped him roll over, to let him spit out dirt and bile.

"JD, there's water in the pack," Chris said and let JD peel it off his shoulders. The younger man searched through it and came up with the bottle while Chris got Vin to sit up. "It's okay, Vin. You're out. We're out," he said calmly and held the bottle up. Vin's hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hold the bottle and Chris did it for him. Vin drank and spat again then drank and swallowed before leaning back against Chris' arm, fists clenched. Chris rolled him in toward his chest, and felt Vin grab for him and hold on. He swallowed and brushed Vin's hair back, letting his hand rest on the dark head for a long moment. He took the other bottle, taking a sip and clearing his own mouth of dirt and mud before drinking. "You got a truck?"

Buck nodded. "Borrowed one. State patrol's behind us, checking the side roads."

"You want an ambulance, Chris?" JD asked, pulling the first aid kit out of the pack.

Chris could barely think. Vin wasn't shaking any more though but he hadn't said anything either. He was still pale and it occurred to Chris that he might have passed out from blood loss rather than the idea of being buried alive. "That or find out where the nearest med center it. You didn't see anyone?"

Buck shook his head. "Saw the van and the truck. Construction equipment. Nothing else."

"Can you get the truck down here?"

Buck looked up at the slope and shook his head. "Not that truck. I think the ground's too soft, Chris. Use the rope though. JD," he said taking the kit. "You head up. Get those troopers on the horn. See if there's any rope or gear in the back."

JD nodded and headed up, Chris flashed him a quick smile. "Glad you fellas showed when you did."

Buck picked up one of the water bottles. "Vin, how you doing, bud?" he asked and Chris let him ease back.

"Better..." Vin said, voice raspy and raw. He leaned back against Chris, turning his face away when Buck used his shirt and the water to clear away dirt and dried blood from his upper arm.

It was deep, a furrow across the fleshy part of his upper arm, and started bleeding again as Buck cleaned it. "Don't think it took muscle or bone," Buck said quietly and Chris watched Vin's face, seeing the strain there. He lifted his hand and stroked through Vin's hair from his temple back, watching while Buck carefully cleaned the wound, let it bleed a little then packed it with gauze from the kit. "You boys up to this climb or you want to wait for some help?" he asked

"I can climb," Vin said and moved away from Chris' arms. He got up and swayed a little, bending over to let the dizziness pass as Chris climbed to his feet.

Chris was sore as well and his head ached. Mostly what he wanted was a shower and then he wanted a lead on the men that had tried to bury them.

"Buck!" JD called and Buck looked up then had to climb a bit to catch the end of the rope JD tossed down. He tied the two together, Chris catching his glance from where he was watching, one hand resting lightly on the back of Vin's neck. Chris held up a finger and pointed to himself then one finger up, jerking his thumb at Vin then at Buck and Buck nodded, understanding the lineup.

It was much easier with the rope to climb up with the soft dirt falling around them but Chris honestly wasn't sure that Vin could manage it. And Chris was sore and tired enough to wonder if he could manage. Buck stayed close though and Vin did make it, even paler than before but looking almost like the climb had wiped out the last of his lingering panic.

But it also wiped him out, blood escaping from Buck's bandage job. The truck turned out to be the service station pickup but it had a CB and Chris got on the police channel, identifying himself while Vin sat back on the open tailgate while Buck tried to get the bleeding to stop again. Ten minutes later, following Chris' directions, they heard the sirens and two state patrol cars pulled into the clearing.

Chris sat down on the front seat of one of them and called it in, getting in touch with the bureau and giving a description of the trucks and cargo. He hadn't seen anyone clear enough to get a good description but Vin had seen the driver at least and managed to give some details: late forties, red headed with a beard. Vin said he looked like Willie Nelson without the long hair and bandanas.

"Got a clinic around here? Med center?" Chris asked one of the troopers, Cody Hawkes by the name on his tag. The other officer was Jay Winston, smaller and darker than Hawkes. Grey eyes, blonde hair, maybe thirty. Chris couldn't help but catalogue his appearance -- he only wished he had as clear a memory of the asshole who'd put a hole in Vin's arm.

"About twenty minutes up the road in Crystal Falls. Hospital's in Livermore. You want us to call someone to get your truck out?"

"If you can," Chris said. "And we're going to need a vehicle. I'm calling for authorization. You got something at your office? Or is there a rental place?"

Hawkes shook his head. "No rental places unless you go to Ft. Collins. I'll check and see what we can scare up. Few more hours and it'll be dark though. You may want to find a place to stay over."

"Yeah," Chris said, wondering if it weren't better anyway. He was ready for a long soak and a soft bed and until they could get a vehicle they weren't going to be hunting or heading home. "Place we can get cleaned up?"

"There's a bed and breakfast. Jay," Hawkes called to the other trooper. "Call up Henny at The Falls, tell her we got a couple a fellas that need a shower and maybe a bed." He glanced at where Vin was sitting in the back of the pickup, JD sticking close while Buck hunted the area looking for shell casings, tracks, anything. "Can get an ambulance here."

"We can get him to that clinic and he'll be okay," Chris said. "Thanks though."

"Wish we'd got here sooner. I'll call ahead to the clinic," Hawkes said, apologetically. "There's a half dozen blind tracks up and down this road. Wasn't sure which one you'd hit."

"The wrong one," Chris said softly. "Vin," he called and got up. The soreness was settling in and he limped a little. "Gonna catch a ride into Crystal Falls, get us checked out."

Vin nodded but only swung his legs into the back of the truck. "Gonna ride here," he said and Chris almost protested and then didn't, seeing the look on Vin's face. Even a car would be to close for Vin at the moment and he nodded, pulling himself into the back of the truck although a spring seat was more along the lines of what he wanted. "Buck...Crystal Falls," he said as JD closed up the tailgate. Buck pulled out as carefully as he could over the uneven ground, Hawkes following them in case they needed a more official escort.

It took less than a half hour, Vin taking the whole ride braced against the cab with his eyes closed, Chris close enough to keep him from falling over if he passed out. Vin didn't and he was a whole lot more relaxed by the time Buck pulled the pick-up into the parking lot of the 24-hour emergency clinic.

"One doc in the box, at your service," Buck said leaning over the back of the pickup. "You two look a little rough."

"Can't imagine why that would be," Vin said opening his eyes but he smiled a little and slid forward when JD lowered the tailgate instead of climbing over the side as Chris did. Vin held his left arm stiffly as he moved, but Buck was there, glancing at Chris before making sure he stayed close to Vin. Chris was pretty sure his partner would stay on his feet, but he was glad Buck was there.

"Better get your head looked at too, Chris," Buck warned.

"Plan to. Might ask if they can just take it off," Chris admitted. The earlier headache had turned into something a whole lot more distracting and he was stiff and sore all over.

JD hung close to Chris. "You okay...I mean aside from the obvious?" JD asked quietly, watching Vin and Buck enter.

Chris shook his head. "Couldn't tell you right now, JD," he said and it bothered him that it was true. "You and Buck get a manifest on that truck?"

"They were going to fax it to the State Troopers. Buck talked to Travis, though. I think Josiah and Ezra were going to head to Ft. Collins, see what they could pick up. Meet us here tomorrow, maybe," JD said and held the door open for Chris.

They didn't have to wait long: the admitting nurse took them back to a curtained cubicle, gurneys set up side by side, and got their information and vitals before the doctor came in; an elderly physician that Hawkes greeted like he knew him. Buck and JD waited in the hallway with Hawkes who seemed to have been appointed to make sure the visiting ATF agents didn't get into any more trouble.

"I'm Dr. Haroldson," the physician said, looking over the notes the nurse had already made. "ATF, huh? Tell me I don't have terrorists on the back roads," he said and Chris couldn't tell if the man was kidding or not. He talked to them both then pulled a curtain between them while the nurse cleaned the cut on Chris' forehead. He heard Haroldson ask Vin to pull his shirt up, asking him to breathe deep. His voice dropped then and Chris tried to hear, eavesdropping unashamedly but he didn't hear Haroldson's question and could only make out the monosyllables Vin answered with. A few minutes later Haroldson spoke to the nurse and then pulled the curtain back enough to get through, Vin laying back on the gurney with his eyes closed again.

Chris' turn and he let the doctor examine him, checking for bruising, listening to his heart. His leg was bothering him but he decided against telling the doctor. It was bruising and stiffness -- conditions Chris was all too familiar with. Haroldson was efficient though, and fairly gentle, talking and working so fast it was hard to know when or what he was going to do next. He reminded Chris of a medic he'd known in the service.

Vin was none too pleased with the IV he got but he actually didn't protest much, laying back with his uninjured arm over his eyes, while the doctor stitched up the cut over Chris' eye. Chris tried not to flinch, the topical anesthetic easing the sharp pain of the wound but having anything that close to his eyes made it difficult to not flinch. Haroldson was fast though, swabbing the cut and then leaving it to the nurse to re-bandage. When she was done, Chris was off the gurney as quickly as he could manage, slipping around the curtain despite the glare from Haroldson

"You really should be in a hospital, Mr. Tanner," the doctor said. Another nurse had come in and cleaned the wound on Vin's shoulder more thoroughly. "You have any idea how long you were unconscious?"

"Just remember the dirt..." Vin said, looking up when Chris stood beside his bed and stroked his hair back.

"The fluids will help with the blood you've lost. You're pressure's a little low...about what it would be if you'd given a couple of pints of blood. You need fluids, lots of them, and rest. Dizziness, nausea, vomiting, anything -- you get to a hospital or back here. You weren't planning to drive back to Denver tonight were you?"

Chris shook his head. "We're kind of short on wheels at the moment. Staying at a place not far from here," he said glancing at Hawkes for confirmation.

"They'll be at The Falls, doc," Hawkes said.

"Close enough. I can pack this wound," the doctor went on, "but you are going need to change the dressing. It's going to swell some, be stiff. If it continues to bleed, we'll stitch it. It's going to scar."

Wouldn't be the first, Chris thought. Or the last. Vin just nodded, then stopped the doctor to ask if he could shower and got a yes. "I'll get the nurse to get you some waterproof bandages to cover it. Let that IV finish though and then you can go. Mr. Larabee..." Haroldson pulled Chris away and Buck moved in to keep Vin company, although Haroldson didn't really do much more than step away and he didn't drop his voice. "Keep an eye on him. He's a little shocky which isn't unusual and that shower he wants could be the best thing. Henrietta at The Falls has my number. My replacement will be here at midnight, but you call."

Haroldson looked concerned but not -- at least not so much that he was insisting that Vin stay. "You worried about anything specific, doc?"

Shaking his head, the elderly man flipped through his notes. "Blood values came back acceptably. Still, he was unconscious and not breathing. I'm not seeing anything like a concussion or bruising to his torso." He read his own notes again but whatever he was going to ask he didn't. "I'd expect fatigue, soreness, stiffness...just don't let it go beyond that. He always this quiet?"

Chris smiled a little. "Mostly. We'll keep an eye on him."

Haroldson nodded. "I'll write up orders, get you some meds until you can get to the drugstore in the morning. Have him see his own doctor when you get home. You as well."

They thanked him and had to wait another half hour for the IV to finish. Hawkes offered to take Buck back to drop off the truck then bring him back to the inn.

"Appreciate that," Chris said. "You wanna check in with your boss, see if they've got anything yet?"

"They'd have called," Hawkes said but he pulled his radio from its shoulder harness and called in.

"Here," JD said and handed Chris a cup of vending machine coffee. Chris hadn't even noticed him slip away.

"You just became my new best friend, JD," Chris said, sipping the hot stuff. It was pretty awful but the caffeine was as welcome as the warmth.

"Why'd they want WWII surplus?" JD asked, leaning against the wall.

"I have no idea. Somehow, I don't think there's a black market for vintage rifles. Not that would make it worth their while to kill people over." Chris said.

"Ain't nobody died," JD pointed out.

//Not yet,// Chris thought glancing at where Vin lay. Skin of their teeth and luck. He shifted, still feeling itchy and sore and shrugged it off, looking up when Hawkes returned.

"They're still hunting. Found tracks from the construction site but there's lots of them. They have six teams out, trying to see where they lead but they are going to lose the light soon. We'll have to pick it up in the morning."

"By which time, the thieves could be out of the area if not the state." Chris shook his head and watched while the nurse pulled the IV line from Vin's arm and helped him sit up. He dumped his coffee and eyed Buck as he took the package of bandages the nurse handed him. "You ready for a shower?" Chris asked. Vin looked a little better, some color in his cheeks finally.

"What? Do I smell bad?" Vin asked, a smile twitching his lips and Chris felt a little more tension ease away.

"Not that I'd notice, but I've seen you look better, Tanner," Chris said.

"Probably," Vin said, and thanked Haroldson and the nurse, walking out as he walked in: under his own power. He didn't protest getting in the back of Hawkes' patrol car.

Ten minutes later Hawkes pulled up the drive of a three story converted mill house with broad porches and decks. They could hear the water, the creak of the old mill wheel. There were only a few cars in the lot and the exterior lights were already on, bathing the weathered facade in a silvery glow.

They mounted the steps and the front door opened, a silver haired woman on the back side of middle age stepping out. "Cody? That you?" she called.

"Yes'm," Hawkes said. "These are the ATF Agents Jay called you about: Agents Larabee, Tanner, Wilmington and Dunne. Henrietta Hawkes," he said, introducing them.

Chris glanced at Hawkes with a raised eyebrow.

"She's my aunt," Hawkes said with a grin.

"Which is neither here nor there," Henrietta said. "I've got rooms ready and supper waiting." She gave Chris and Vin a long look. "And plenty of hot water. Jay said there'd been an accident: he didn't say you went head on with a dump truck."

"A shower would be heaven itself, ma'am," Vin said.

Henrietta held the door open. "Second floor. Rooms are to the right, end of the hall. There's robes in the bathroom. You boys strip down and leave your clothes outside the bathrooms and I'll get them cleaned up."

"Don't want to put you to too much trouble, ma'am," Chris said, following Vin inside. Buck and JD Followed with Hawkes behind them.

"It's not. Too late to find you new clothes -- might be able to dig up a shirt or two, but you go get cleaned up. I'll bring the food upstairs."

"Chris," Buck stopped him. "I'm going to take the truck back. If that station is still open, I'll pick up some shaving things. Get a check in with the team if I can."

"All right. See you back here for dinner."

"Stay out of trouble," Buck warned.

Chris grinned. "You watch your back...and if he don't, Hawkes, it's up to you."

"I'll try not to lose him. Should be back in forty-five minutes or so." Hawkes led Buck out and Chris watched them drive away before following Vin, JD and their hostess up the stairs.

Vin and Chris took the rooms to the left, leaving the others for JD and Buck. "You boys just leave those clothes," Henrietta reminded them and Chris stopped her before she headed down.

"Appreciate this, Ms. Hawkes," he said.

She patted his arm. "It's no problem Mr. Larabee. And you call me Henny," she said with a smile. "Get washed up and I'll bring some supper up."

Chris let her go and entered his room. It was soothingly neutral, woodland colors and themes with greens and rusts and four poster bed. He found towels and the robes Henny had left, stripping off his boots and a little surprised at how much dirt came out of them. His socks were the color of mud and pulling off his shirt revealed alternate patterns of brown and paler skin and a few bruises he hadn't noticed.

The bathroom was comfortably large and he started the water, glancing at the connecting door there. He didn't hear water on the other side. He tapped on it. "Vin?"

It took a few moments for Vin to fumble with the lock. Like Chris, Vin had stripped to his jeans, the waterproof bandages spread out on the counter. "You want some help with that?" Chris asked.

Vin glanced back and nodded. "Yeah...was trying to figure it out." He leaned back against the counter while Chris picked up the clear strip of plastic and peeled the backing off carefully and pressed it securely over the gauze bandage on Vin's arm. The band of paler skin where Buck and the nurses had cleaned around the wound was a stark contrast to the near black dirt staining the rest of Vin's arm. "You doing okay?" he asked, making sure the ends were smooth and no water could get in.

Vin only nodded and Chris stepped directly in front of him and caught his face as he had in the truck cab. He was afraid he might see the same haunted look there but it wasn't visible. Vin looked tired and disturbed and maybe a little embarrassed. "I'm starting to worry, Vin. You haven't said ten words since we got out."

A little annoyance flashed through the blue eyes and Chris was glad to see it. "Said more'n that to the troopers and that doctor."

"Maybe if I counted them," Chris allowed after a moment. "Give me ten, Vin?" he asked and bent his head.

Vin kissed him back so it wasn't so much that he was embarrassed in front of Chris. He leaned against Chris for just a moment. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "You left the shower running and if I end up taking a cold shower because of it, I'm going to make your life miserable," he said with quick grin at Chris.

Chris started laughing. "Okay. Point made. We could share," he offered.

"Might shock Ms. Hawkes."

"I don't rightly care, Mr. Tanner," Chris said and after a moment Vin nodded and stripped off his jeans, dropping them outside the bathroom door as Henny had instructed and closing the door to his bathroom. Chris stripped down as well and did the same thing then made sure the water wasn't too hot before stepping in and making room for Vin.

It wasn't that tight a space, but Chris wrapped his arms around Vin anyway and let the water beat down on them both for a few minutes. He wanted as Vin close as he could get him, finally letting loose some of his own fear both in being trapped in the cab and then pulling Vin's limp body from the dirt. It had been like digging up the dead, the idea of Vin being buried there...he shuddered and Vin locked his arms around him.

"We're okay," Vin said and this time he was the aggressor, taking Chris' mouth with force and hunger and fear, so much so that Chris had to reach out and steady them on the wall. He could still taste dirt and blood and only gradually was it washed away. Vin's fingers curled around the back of his neck, then slid up into his hair. Vin sucked on his tongue, his lower lip, then shook his head to get the water out of his eyes. The blue eyes were clearer, more focused and Chris only nodded, taking a deeper breath as Vin reached for the washcloth and soap. The deep kisses didn't arouse anything more than a fervent prayer of relief.

It helped to have Vin's hands on him, then be able to lay his own on Vin's skin, to check him, recognize bruises and scrapes and the fact that as far as the rollover of the truck had gone, they'd both gotten off pretty easily. He leaned back against the tiles to let Vin soap and rinse his hair then did his own. Given unlimited hot water, he might never get out but Vin was leaning against the tiles, looking cleaner but pale and tired and Chris shut it off, grabbing towels for both of them to dry off. The robes were thick and long, dark blue terry cloth and warm enough once they left the steamy heat of the shower.

Their clothes were gone and Chris found a tray of food on the end of his bed that he carried through the connecting door. Vin was on the bed, legs crossed under him, examining the contents of his tray and going for the half carafe of coffee first thing. Chris was just getting settled when he heard a knock. He got up and opened Vin's door, seeing JD in the hall outside his room.

"Heard from Buck?" Chris asked.

"Not yet," JD said. He'd washed up as well, black hair still wet over the collar of the robe. "Ms. Henny got a call from Ezra though. They're gonna be here in a few hours instead of staying over in Ft. Collins. He wanted to make sure she had room. How's Vin? How're you?" JD asked looking at Chris critically and a little anxiously.

"Probably feel a lot better than I look. You eaten?"

JD nodded. "Got some maps from Henny...trying to see where they coulda' gone."

"Keep at it...we're gonna eat. Let me know when Buck gets back?"

"I will," JD promised and only glanced in to see Vin before backing up.

"He's okay, JD," Chris said. "Give us a few...we'll see what we've got when Buck gets back. Maybe Hawkes will have heard something too. Want to wait here?" he asked when JD hesitated. The youngest of his team didn't look shaken but JD was getting as good at hiding what he felt as Vin was. Chris wasn't entirely sure it was something he wanted to encourage.

JD considered the offer for a moment then shook his head. He looked reassured. "Naw. You eat. I'll tell Buck to check in when he gets here."

Chris closed the door and pulled a chair up beside the bed. Vin was leaning back against the pillows, still sipping the coffee. He had the cover off his food and looked to have taken a couple of bites.

Chris did the same, a little startled at how hungry he was. He looked at Vin who watched him dig in with a smile. "You should eat something," he said.

"Will, " Vin promised and picked up the diner roll, taking a healthy bite and chewing slowly. He set the remainder down and finished his coffee. Another four bites of the chicken and rice Henny had sent up, though, and he looked to be done and what he had eaten didn't look to be settling too well.

"Feeling queasy?" Chris asked, remembering the doctor's warnings.

"Just not hungry," Vin said and eyed Chris. "And I think whatever Haroldson gave me is kicking in. It's been long day, Chris. I'm just tired, is all."

"Make sure that is all," Chris warned and finished his own meal, then taking his tray and Vin's and setting them aside on the small table near the windows. He looked out and saw Buck and Hawkes walking along the sidewalk. "Buck's back."

Vin didn't answer and Chris turned around, seeing the other man's eyes closed, fingers still wrapped around his cup. Chris smiled and pulled the cup away, waking him and Chris pulled the blankets back.

"Just resting," Vin protested.

"You're out on your feet, Vin. Nothing much happening. I'm gonna talk to Buck and then hit the bed myself."

"It's not even nine!" Stubbornly Vin sat up and Chris sighed and sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Buck. "I don't need a mother."

"All right," he said. Arguing with Vin would get him nowhere -- or it might but it was definitely not the path of least resistance. Chris was far too tired for that. Half the time he really did think Vin needed someone looking after him. The fact that he'd survived to reach twenty-seven years of age had to be one of the last true miracles of the universe. There were times when Chris was certain Vin went looking for ways to get himself killed or hurt -- or maybe to prove that he couldn't be -- or that he could survive it, which Chris thought was closer to the truth.

"Just want to hear if they found anything," Vin said after a moment, more quietly and Chris glanced up, surprised to see anger burning in the blue eyes. Vin had one leg raised, uninjured arm resting across his knee, the long fingers curled tightly to his palm and flexing, opening and closing again but never quite creating a fist. Carefully Chris pressed his palm to Vin's, threading his fingers through the other man's. Vin's fingers tightened around his and held. "They tried to kill us," he said barely a whisper and Chris tightened his fingers too. "Thought maybe they had...you couldn't get...out."

"You got me out, Vin." It was true, panicked or not, if Vin hadn't kept pushing him, giving him some kind of leverage to work against, Chris knew he'd have suffocated in that dirt, or fallen back through and they both would have died. Vin had, however briefly, and Chris was never going to get used to the idea of how easily he could lose him. Any day, any op, a damn day off watching Buck make a fool of himself over a boat he'd never get fixed up. "We'll get them."

Vin nodded, eyes half closed watching their hands, not moving until they heard the knock and suddenly their hands weren't linked any longer and Chris' palm tingled.

"In," Chris called, not moving otherwise.

Buck came in with JD and Hawkes, JD carrying their clothes -- freshly washed and folded. "Ms. Henny sent 'em," JD said with a grin. Buck tossed Chris a brown paper bag and he opened it to see shaving gear and toothbrushes and a couple of dark chocolate candy bars.

"I'm thinking these aren't for me," Chris said with a smile, holding the candy up for Vin to see. Vin gave him a grin and snatched them out of his hands.

"Thanks, Buck," he said.

Buck grinned. "Figured you'd had a rough enough day to deserve 'em."

Chris shook his head. "Thanks for the gear too. Find anything?"

Hawkes shook his head. "They called it at dark. Have a couple of guys stationed there and plan to pick it up again in the morning. Lots of tracks. Looks like a popular place for four wheelers. Commander Brady ordered up dogs too. Got the manifest though. Had them fax it here," he said offering Chris three pages.

Chris took them and looked over them, eyes narrowing. "This is more than surplus," he said, voice low, almost a growl. "More than what Davis said."

"He said he wasn't sure," Buck said. "They took him to the hospital in Ft. Collins -- concussion -- but yeah."

"A rocket launcher?" Chris said. "Ambitious for survivalists...not quite enough to start their own war. Christ. Tell me they had licenses to transport?"

"I've got Nathan checking," Buck said. "Supposed to be non firing...but..."

"Doesn't take much to make them fire," Vin said, barely glancing at the list when Chris passed it to him.

"Most of it's pre-ban stuff," JD offered. "But...it'll be hard to trace. All out of private issue except the WWII stuff."

"We get a copy of this to the bureau?"

"Commander faxed it himself," Hawkes said. "He'd like to meet with you in the morning. I'm supposed to come up -- we've got a car for you if you need it."

"Might," Chris said on a sigh. "I need to call Travis."

"Did that," Buck said and grinned at Chris' startled look. "Give it a rest tonight, Larabee. Nothing much we can do. We don't know what we're looking for or where. Now, that's all I know and I'm dirty and hungry. Ezra and Josiah won't be in until later. I'll wait up. Got a find a way to get my boat back anyway."

Chris gave him a sour look. "Any other part of my job you want, Buck?"

"Just your paycheck, boss," Buck said on a chuckle. "Seriously, Chris. Ain't nothing you can do tonight that isn't being done by somebody else -- and them without a whack to the head."

"Take a bigger knock to get through that hard head," Vin said and got a glare. He smiled sunnily at Chris, payback for Chris trying to get him to rest, no doubt.

"All right. Hawkes, I appreciate all you've done today," Chris said.

"Pleasure's mine, Mr. Larabee," Hawkes said. "Wish we had better news for you. I'll see you in the morning." He said his good-nights and left them.

"What did Travis have to say?" Chris asked.

"Sending McMillan and team three up in the morning, forensics team, see if we can't get this nailed quick. But he said the same thing, Chris. Told me to tell you and Vin to get some rest. Seemed to think the commander of the troopers -- Collins -- knows what he's doing. JD's been working on search patterns...we'll see what Collins comes up with. He'll know the area better."

"I want to talk to Ezra and Jo--" Chris started and Buck shook his head.

"They'll be after midnight getting here, Chris. We'll start early. Jeez...would you relax, for just a bit? We know what we're doing," Buck said showing the first sign of irritation. He was dirty and tired looking and anxious -- and mostly, Chris knew, anxious about him. There was an old and deep concern there and Chris recognized that his own impatience for results was showing. He took a deep breath and let it out.

"I know. Point made, Buck," he said and waved him out. "Go shower, eat. We'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you," Buck said and bowed. He was smiling when he stood up again. "Hawkes will be by at six, he said." He backed out, pulling JD with him.

Vin got up for a glass of water, then studied the pill packs Haroldson had given him, finally picking up the antibiotic to take one and washing it down. Chris glanced toward the adjoining doors then shucked off the robe, getting into the bed. He needed sleep tonight more than he needed to maintain any sense of propriety in the face of the kind but largely unknown Ms. Hawkes and he wouldn't get that sleeping in one room with Vin in the other. Not after today. He got a smile from Vin for his choice that was amused and, if only in Chris' mind, a little glad.

Chris caught the light once Vin was under the blankets, on his stomach, stretching out his injured arm to rest it on Chris' chest and Chris stroked the skin just below the bandage, just barely able to see the glitter of Vin's eyes in the darkness. Vin's fingers stroked over his chest, just a small pattern, a light touch and more an acknowledgement that Chris was there. When Chris looked again, Vin's eyes were closed.

One of the great things about sleeping with Vin was that once asleep, despite all statistical data, he would barely move. He might shift a little somewhere in the middle of the night but once he found a position he would stay there. Chris, on the other hand, knew he could move quite a bit: age and old injuries and stress making it difficult for him to find a comfortable position that would last him more than hour or so. If he ever woke Vin up with his tossing and turning, Vin never said anything and Chris would inevitably wake up to find Vin still on his stomach, still close enough to Chris to touch.

The strange bed made it worse, and he tried not to disturb Vin, wondering if he shouldn't ought to go try and sleep in the other bed after all and then dropping off into a light doze. He woke about one a.m., heard voices that took him a few moments to identify as Josiah and Ezra, speaking softly in the hall with Buck. He almost got up but Vin was there, face pressed to the hollow between Chris' shoulder blades, his arm still wrapped loosely around Chris' waist and before Chris could decide if it was worth it, he heard the voices stop and a door close and it was quiet again.

At three he woke again, this time not to voices or his own discomfort but something else, some other kind of stillness, wrongness, and it took him a moment to realize Vin wasn't close, wasn't touching him, wasn't even in the damn bed and Chris had never felt him leave. His immediate glance went to the bathroom, fearing Vin was sick, but there was no sliver of light under the door and Chris sat up.

"I'm here. Go back to sleep," Vin's voice, soft and rough and Chris followed it, saw the tucked up shadow in a chair by the window, the external lights giving just enough illumination for the shadow to have form.

"You all right?" Chris asked, knowing it wasn't all right but he had pretty much gotten it into his head that if he asked Vin what was wrong he'd say 'nothing' until he got good and ready to tell him.

"Yeah," Vin said and got up, fluid and graceful even with the bulk of Ms. Henny's custom embroidered terry robe swallowing him up and pretty much obscuring all of his normal shape. He shed the robe again when he reached the bed, Chris lay back down and to his side, scooting over so Vin wouldn't have to walk around. Vin lay back, pushing both hands through his hair before letting his head hit the pillow and folding his good arm under his head. Chris adjusted so as not to get an elbow in the face and pulled the blankets up again, letting his hand linger on Vin's stomach, under the blanket.

There was tension there and not the pleasant kind, Vin still tied in knots and Chris had nursed his lover through enough nightmares and terrors after the Juarez case to recognize the signs. Would have been easier if Vin were the kind to scream and thrash but he wasn't. His terrors were as quiet as the rest of him, the same as they'd been in the truck cab, tearing Vin apart from the inside. Chris had more the wake up yelling kind of nightmares and was as likely to hit Vin as anything. Vin had learned to duck fast.

"Do you know why?" Chris asked, quietly, letting his hand glide over to Vin's side, along his ribs.

"Why what?"

"Small spaces," Chris said.

Vin shook his head and stretched his arm, sliding it over Chris's to lock their fingers together. "No. Don't think I ever got locked in a closet when I was a kid," he said and Chris could see the curve of his lips. "It's not the space," he said after a moment. "It's the..." he took a breath and Chris tightened his fingers and lifted his shoulders to prop his head up on his hand. "Not getting out..." Vin said. "And I don't know where that comes from either."

"Juarez," Chris said, trying not to grit his teeth, but Vin shook his head.

Vin was way more past that than Chris was -- had been almost from the start. Maybe because he wasn't the one who most often saw the scars on his back, or maybe because Vin was just better equipped to let go of things than Chris was.

"Started before that."

Chris wanted to ask, when or how Vin had first known it but he didn't. He wasn't sure Vin could pinpoint it but he'd think on it and sometimes that was all Chris could offer him by way of comfort when he wanted to be able to provide so much more.

Vin turned his head, studying Chris' face and Chris could see enough to make out the worry there: for him. It was vaguely annoying that Vin knew more about what Chris was afraid of than Chris knew of Vin. Small spaces, not being able to get out and Chris had to wonder if it that didn't extend to more than physical imprisonment. Vin wasn't afraid of commitments. He was cautious about making them, but like Buck, once made it would take God and all his angels to pull him away from something.

Chris was all too aware of how easily that could be arranged.

Vin gave him a nudge, pushed him to his back and stretched over him a little, getting comfortable, breathing steady and even while Chris stroked along his back. He could feel the smoother skin where the scarring persisted, knew without looking that what was left of the striping was pale and silver against the tan of the rest of Vin's skin. Vin pressed his lips to the smoother part of Chris' shoulder. "Go to sleep, Chris," he said softly and Chris hugged him lightly and closed his eyes.

~end part one~

 

Part Two

Vin promised his body he would give it twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep when it was all over. He did manage to not set a deadline for the promise -- he hated breaking promises, even to himself. Maybe especially to himself.

He slept some: a couple more hours, waking to Chris' arm still around him and asleep deeply enough for Vin to move and do no more than cause Chris to roll over a little. It was still dark out and Vin sat on the edge of the bed, the borrowed robe across his legs. His arm ached like a sonofabitch and was stiff but it hadn't really woken him. Vague intimations of suffocation had done that.

Sitting in the dark only made him think of it more and he moved, pulling his own clothes out of the pile JD had left and got dressed. The sleeve of his T-shirt was torn but Henny had it bleached out, no blood or dirt, and it wasn't until he picked up his boots that the smell hit him again. Loamy and dank, and he swallowed, ground his teeth together and carried them out into the hallway without putting them on.

He was quiet, not sure how many other guests Henny had, and not really looking for anything but air and space.

It was cool, close to cold when he hit the porch, his T-shirt poor insulation against the morning chill, but the air was clean and sharp and Vin took what felt like the first deep breath he had since yesterday. He got his boots on, the outside air carrying away the scent now buried in his brain with other unpleasant associations. Folding his arms across his chest, he sat, watching the sky lighten gradually.

He jerked around, hearing a step behind him and then relaxed, to see Henny at the door, holding out a down vest. "Put this on," she said quietly, not breaking the early morning stillness by more than a whisper and Vin took the coat, sliding it on. Henny left him for a moment then returned with big mugs in her hands. Vin got to his feet to help her and she smiled. "Have to take it black. Don't know how you like it."

"Black's fine, ma'am. Thank you," he said and then sat when she did, both of them watching the darkness give way to gold. "You're up early."

Henny gave him a look and smiled, sipping her coffee. "Boys are coming at six...though I'd have something ready for them. Man hunting is hungry work. And I got guests. Randy and Lita will have breakfast ready soon."

"Sounds like you've been party to this before," Vin said, sipping the coffee. It was strong and bitter and he liked it sweeter and creamier but it was hot and the taste suited his mood more.

"Have. My husband Roy -- Cody's uncle -- was a Trooper, then a ranger, before we bought this place. Don't get much traffic up here in the winter. No ski runs. Park service, troopers, they've used the inn for a base for Search and Rescue more than once," Henny said.

"It's right nice," Vin said. He could hear the wheel, the slosh of water, not quite steady but rhythmic just the same. "Seems an odd place for a mill, though."

Henny chuckled. "Was never very successful as a mill. Used to be some farms here, hundred years ago, but the land's too wild, too uneven. Hasn't been working mill for a long time. Was an Express station for awhile or so the rumors go. Then a home. Now an inn."

Vin smiled at her and shook his head. "Must have just liked the view when they built it," he said. The mountains were less shadow now, still dark but brightening. Light washing the landscape and there was something about a sunrise that just made Vin calmer.

"Likely so. You usually up this early, Mr. Tanner, or is that arm bothering you?" Henny asked him.

"Bit of both, I 'spect," he said and was glad Chris wasn't out here. He'd be laughing. Chris was pretty sure that any woman old enough to be Vin's mother couldn't help _but_ mother him. And it seemed to be true.

"You should take your medicines and then come get something to eat," she said and got to her feet.

"Yes, ma'am," Vin agreed but didn't move. Henny didn't say anything else but went back inside leaving Vin alone which suited him fine for the moment. He didn't linger long though, just long enough to see the sun crest, turning the tips of the trees molten and then headed back, taking his half full mug with him.

Chris woke when he opened the door, blinking sleepily at him, then glancing at the clock. He gave a little groan and buried his face back in the pillow. "The sun is up, right?" Chris asked, voice hoarse.

"Yup. Just," Vin said and sat on the edge of the bed, offering Chris what was left of his coffee. "Here. Warm still and no sugar."

He only got half a glare but it made him smile. "You must want something."

Vin bent low. "Do. But we have state troopers coming in a half hour and it will take longer than that." He breathed the words into Chris' ear then gently bit the soft earlobe. He wasn't surprised when Chris grabbed for his hair and pressed their mouths together, managed not to spill the coffee and still look pissed off when he pulled back.

"How's your arm?" he asked, the fingers tangled in Vin's hair, untangling themselves to stroke the curls back.

"Sore," Vin admitted and it was: a steady, throbbing ache that bothered him less only because the pain was steady. Chris fingered the bandage, frowning at the blood that had leaked through. It was dried but he searched Vin's face, then touched his cheek and temple. "No fever," Vin said. "It's sore. Stiff. I'll take a pill, you drink your coffee, and you can change the bandage."

Chris rolled his eyes but pulled himself up to sitting and took a sip of the coffee. Vin grinned at him, seeing the grimace at the coolness of it. "It's enough to get you started. I'm sure Ms. Hawkes has more." He squeezed Chris' leg under the blankets and got up, sorting through the pills once more and going into the bathroom for water to take them with and get out the extra bandages and wet a washcloth. Chris was pulling on his jeans when he returned and Vin dropped the bandages on the bed and held the washcloth until Chris would need it.

Vin didn't look as Chris pulled the tape and gauze away and didn't move either although he did grind his teeth a bit when the gauze stuck. It felt more like a burn than a scrape. "Sorry," Chris said softly but Vin couldn't complain too much. Chris' hands were steady and gentle: it wasn't lack of competence. It was Chris' hiss that made him look back, catching only a glimpse of the red and bloody gash before Chris took the washcloth and gently worked the bits of dried blood from the edges of the wound. A glance at Chris' face revealed a pretty intense mix of anger and concern. Vin had seen it before, that look. He'd gotten familiar with the slight change to it when it was himself who was injured, but the look was still there when any one of them did. An injury to any one the Team was like a personal affront to Chris Larabee, or a direct challenge.

Buck said it was like bear-baiting, and Vin thought that was pretty accurate. There was nothing quite so impressive as seeing Chris Larabee angry. Vin had faced down wild fires and twisters and gun runners with less ferocity. And nothing pissed Chris off more than when one of the team was hurt.

"What are you grinning at?" Chris asked him, green eyes flashing and looking unamused.

"Laying the odds on whether you're gonna patch that or put another bullet hole in me," Vin said, not cowed by glare or tone of voice.

"Serve you right," Chris said but the pressure on Vin's arm was just as gentle, the hands just as cautious. "It looks pretty red and swollen."

"Doc said it would," Vin said and looked away again as Chris spread the antibiotic cream thickly then packed the gash and wrapped it carefully.

"Maybe we should stop by the med center," Chris said casually, tying off the gauze strip.

The protest was quick to rise in Vin's mind but he kept himself from speaking it. "If you want," he said and caught Chris looking at him in surprise. Vin dropped his gaze, wondering if he could get away with just agreeing. If it would be fair. "I want in on this...," he said quietly. "That means you need to be okay with it. I'm..." the word 'fine' sprang to mind but Chris wouldn't buy it. "...sorry."

Chris sat down beside him, eyeing him a little suspiciously, Vin thought. "You don't apologize for much, Tanner."

"Don't usually need to," Vin said. "Don't like you to worry. Makes you grouchy."

Chris nodded. "Yeah. So I've been told." He lay back on the bed and reached out to stroke Vin's back. Vin could almost predict the path Chris' fingers would take and a part of him wanted to slap that hand away and tell Chris to get over it. The scars there weren't Chris' fault. His hand hadn't left them and neither had his negligence or his stupidity or his lack of omnipotence. He couldn't flip it around and put himself in Chris' shoes, either. His own losses weren't as fresh, maybe hadn't cut as deeply, hadn't been edged with the sense of helplessness that Chris' had. What irritation he felt was because it bothered him that Chris did worry so much, that even months later he still blamed himself a little for what Juarez had done.

Still, it seemed pretty petty for Vin to get pissed off because Chris Larabee happened to love him _too_ much.

"You saw something yesterday, at the site," Chris said after a few moment, spreading his fingers flatly against Vin's back.

Vin nodded. "I did. Looked like tracks...heading north. God knows what will be left of them now."

"They'll have a tracker."

"I'm sure they will," Vin said and twisted around to see Chris' face, seeing the fatigue there and the set of his mouth. "I'm highly motivated."

Chris smiled, slow and easy, enough to make Vin's heart pound a little faster and harder. Smug son of a bitch -- but he had to return that smile.

"Quick check," Chris asked and he was asking. Vin nodded.

"Need to the scripts filled anyway. For you too," he added, reaching out to lightly trace the bandage above Chris' eye. The skin was swollen as well, the bruising spreading under the blonde of Chris' eyebrow.

"Give Buck a chance to flirt with the nurses."

"I'm surprised he didn't ask one out last night."

Chris grinned and pulled himself up.

Ten minutes later they were both washed up and shaved and Chris dressed. They didn't hear much else from the other rooms in the hall but neither was surprised to find Josiah already seated in the inn's dining room, with a plate full of breakfast and coffee. He was dressed down somewhat: jeans and a denim shirt, nodding to both of them when they entered.

Henny brought out a fresh pot of coffee and smiled on seeing them. Behind her, a younger woman brought out a basket of fresh rolls, while a man wearing a white chef's coat set out more food on the already loaded buffet table.

"Well, Mr. Larabee...you do clean up nicely," she said with a wink.

Chris smiled at her and inclined his head. "Thank you, Henny. We try to make good impressions when we can."

She laughed and poured coffee for them. "Help yourselves when you're ready. Matt Collins and Cody should be here shortly," she said and left the pot on the table. "And you boys be careful out there."

"We will do our best, ma'am," Josiah said and leaned forward. "You two look some bit better than I expected," he said eyeing both of them.

"You and Ezra find anything?" Chris asked

"Not much. Harmon's was already closed when we got into Ft. Collins. Did track down the owner though. Davis called him. It was a fairly routine thing, he said. Weapons aren't on the ban list, has a license. Pledged his full support. Swears that rocket launcher is non-functional. Display only."

Chris shook his head in exasperation. "It'd make such a great lawn ornament." He got up to get some breakfast, returning a moment later with a full plate and gave Vin a glance. Josiah chuckled when Vin sighed and got up to get food as well.

"Could you break an ankle or something, Josiah? He's mother-henning me," Vin said, fairly sure Chris wouldn't take offense except for show.

"Better than clubbing you over the head," Josiah said and Chris smiled. "Brought your gear and some clothes. Buck said you hadn't planned to stay over."

"Was supposed to be a day trip," Chris said as Vin sat down again with a bowl of granola and fruit. "Troopers should be here soon. Vin thinks he might be able to pick up a trail. They had to move those guns with something."

"Spoke to Ms. Henny. Rough country up there and not much access until you get to the park," Josiah said. "Big area to cover. Pretty bold bit of pilfering."

Chris nodded, digging into eggs and hash browns. "Maybe they got spooked. They headed down the road pretty fast."

"May have thought they killed Davis," Vin said.

"I'm kind of wondering why they didn't," Josiah said. "Hospital kept him overnight. Ezra and I are going to try and talk to him."

"Different game when you are talking about theft and murder," Vin said, eating more because Chris was watching him than because he was hungry. The medication made his stomach sour though and food would probably help. He took a bite of cereal, half listening, staring at the huge framed map of the area than Henny had up on the wall. It showed parts of the trail west, which had never come this far north, through here, but the lakes were there and the rivers.

"Didn't keep them from trying to kill us." Chris spoke quietly and flatly.

"Hence my confusion. Two dead is in no way better than one, or three," Josiah said.

True enough, Vin thought. Premeditated murder didn't really make allowance for body counts. Then again, weapons capable of firing off single shots from barrels that might be rough and pockmarked from age and poor handling weren't likely to raise the body count much either. He wished he'd studied the manifest more closely but it had been late and he was tired and the amount of concentration needed to make sense of the small blurred print of a fax copy might have sent him on a shooting rampage of his own.

He had to wonder if it had been the gun he'd been carrying that had drawn fire. He'd thought about it in the medical center, waiting for the IV to finish, trying not to think of how small the cubicle was, tensing up when he heard Chris hiss in pain when the doctor stitched his eye. If they'd just been looking, would they have gotten shot at?

And what were they still doing there? They had taken what they needed from truck. It had been forty minutes or better from the time they found Davis to the time he and Chris reached the construction site. He closed his eyes, trying to see in his mind what he had been looking at when the first bullet hit the dirt. Behind him. Overshot, because he'd been standing still, or just bad aim? Had they meant to shoot him or just scare them? What had he been looking at?

Down and out, along the side of the pile of loose dirt, where the leaves hadn't quite been covered up. It hadn't rained recently. Everything was dry except the turned over leaves still held moisture, were still stained slightly darker by the compression of moisture. There had been a gap in the trees, winding upward on the other side of the ravine. A glimpse of granite and shale, thick foliage from the trees casting shadowy patterns that made him dizzy if he stared at it too long -- but he had, had seen it, the displacement, the slighter darkness like a long shadow on the land.

Easy path would be down the ravine, heading west, back toward the road if they cut cross country. Or east toward the main highway. They could come out anywhere. But the line, what had caught his eye, had been going north, where there was nothing for a good forty miles until the land rolled into the national park lands.

Chris' fingers pressed lightly on his wrist and he looked up to see the green eyes fixed on him with concern. Josiah was watching him too and Vin shook his head. "Just thinking. Want to get back to the site and see if I saw what I thought I did."

Chris hesitated but before he could say anything, they had company: five men in slate blue uniforms, sweeping off wide brimmed hats as they entered the dining room. Vin remembered Cody Hawkes and smiled in greeting. The older man with him was wearing a different badge and Chris got to his feet, introducing himself.

Commander Matt Collins was maybe twenty years older than Chris but despite that the dark hair was still mostly black and face structure revealing more than a little native American blood in his lineage somewhere. Somewhere in his State Trooper ranking, the man would be a Lt. Colonel, Vin knew and he looked amazingly like a few of his military counterparts Vin had known. No nonsense, by the rules and watching he and Chris size each other up was going to give Vin some things to think about. Their rank within their respective organizations would be similar but the task at hand -- that would put Collins a step below Chris and Vin wasn't sure that was sitting too well with the Commander.

He got up as well when Chris introduced them. Collins' dark eyes studied Vin and then Josiah, and Vin had to fight the urge to suddenly come to attention. But that hard gaze softened when Henny arrived with more coffee, although it looked like she came more to greet the newcomers.

"Care to sit, Commander?" Chris offered and the man unbent enough to do so.

"I'm putting up food for you boys, Matt," Henny said, pouring coffee for him and urging the four troopers behind him to get food or coffee or both.

"It's much appreciated, Henny," Collins said and took a sip of his coffee. "Had my men stationed at the site all night," he said, addressing Chris. "And called in a tracker -- Carl Lawson. He's pretty familiar with this area. Your Assistant Director was pretty insistent that I give you every bit of help I can, but this seems excessive for the cargo taken."

"I'd appreciate it," Chris said, making it personal and also bridling a bit. "But I don't think it's excessive at all. Attempted murder tends to make Travis a little nervous."

Collins eyed Chris, and Vin sat back wondering if the man was digging for something or just trying to make sure Chris knew this wasn't an entirely open handed cooperation. "We got your truck pulled out. I'm guessing you'll want your own forensic team to go over it."

"They should be here mid morning," Chris said. "It's guns, Commander. Old or not, that's what we do."

"We haven't had any trouble with that," Collins said, helping himself to one of the fresh rolls in the basket on the table. "Open country...and not too friendly."

"It would seem trouble has come knocking at your door," Josiah said softly.

Collins gave him a look and Chris leaned back in his chair. "Chances are they aren't in the area any more but you let me know what you need and I'll get it for you," Collins said. "Cody," he called Hawkes over. "Officer Hawkes will be your liaison. Patrols will be on alert for anything suspicious: trucks, low riding cars. Got a lot of campers up in the Red Feather Lakes area, last few weekends before the snow comes in."

"I appreciate it," Chris said.

"Any access to horses?" Vin asked quietly.

Collins shifted his attention. "Could. We keep a stable, so does the park service. You think you're going to need them?"

I wouldn't have asked if I didn't, Vin thought but kept it to himself. "Might. Like you said, not friendly for trucks and what tracks we might pick up...ATV's will tear up the ground."

"You have a reason to think they are still out there and not already on the highway heading someplace else, son?"

"Maybe. Need to get out to the site to be sure."

Collins looked irritated, apparently wanting more and a glance at Chris made it seem like he thought Chris should want more too. He finished his coffee. "You let Hawkes know what you need. I'll be up at the site for a bit. DOT is coming in as well." He got to his feet.

Chris rose, giving the man the respect of his rank and Vin and Josiah did the same. Two of the troopers went with him, Collins stopping to talk to Henny on the way out, stance and face relaxing again.

"Ford Explorer," Hawkes said holding out the keys to Chris. Another trooper, his compatriot from the day before, Jay Winston, rose as well.

"Thanks. I'll try not to get it dinged," Chris said.

"That would be good," Hawkes said glancing at the back of his retreating commander. "It's his."

"Great," Chris said with a mock groan but he smiled. "Finish your breakfast, Hawkes. We've got some gear to load."

Hawkes nodded. "We've got packs of water and emergency supplies in the car as well."

"A half hour then. Josiah, you have gear for us?" Chris said and Josiah nodded.

They met Buck and JD on the way down and Chris gave them an update while Vin followed Josiah to his room.

"Cleared your lockers," Josiah said and Vin recognized his duffel. "I think they are clean," he said and Vin grinned, opening his bag. If they ended up staying more than a couple of days, he'd need more or Ms. Henny was going to be doing laundry every day. Vin pulled out the two shirts and an extra pair of jeans and a bandana. He swapped out the torn white T-shirt for a black one then checked the sidearm Josiah had brought before slipping the holster on, not saying anything when Josiah reached out to help him get the strap over his bad arm then pulled the dark blue flannel shirt over that. With a quiet thank you, Vin reached in and found the slim ankle sheath, sliding it down under his sock and boot top before slipping the thin blade into the sheath and pushing his jeans down over it.

Josiah armed up as well then lifted the gun case onto the bed for Vin. "Hope you don't need that," he said quietly.

"Me either," Vin said but checked the rifle anyway and counted the reloads.

"I'm going to wake Ezra," Josiah said.

"Good thing you're armed," Vin said and heard Josiah chuckle.

Chris came in just after, checking his own gear then picking up both their bags to deposit them in the rooms across the hall while Vin put the rifle back in the case.

Josiah came back with Ezra in tow -- the other man dressed but obviously not entirely awake. He smiled at Vin though and Vin returned it.

"Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, Ez," Vin said.

"No apologies necessary," Ezra said. "I've been told the wonders of the north country are best seen in early morning."

"And on foot," Chris said.

"Yes, well, some other time," Ezra said. "I believe Mr. Sanchez and myself are going to find all the trendiest spots in Ft. Collins. A lovely day's outing," Ezra said, his revulsion at the thought overplayed just a bit -- enough to get Chris to grin and shake his head.

"Just get me something we can use," Chris said and bent down to pick up the gun case. "And stay in touch. I'm probably going to want you to take JD back at some point. I need him in the office where he can get what we found filtered out."

"We did bring his laptop," Josiah said, and fell into step beside Chris.

"He's gonna need more than that and Nate's going to need help."

Vin and Ezra followed, Ezra's eyes glancing over the walls. "This looks to be an Inn of reasonable luxury -- for a mill."

Vin smiled. "It's nice. Ms. Henny is too. You meet her?"

"Very briefly, last night. The woman is a saint, I'll admit. Coffee waiting."

"Husband used to work for the troopers, then for the park service."

"I take it Mr. Hawkes is no longer with us," Ezra said as they descended the stairs.

Vin shook his head. "Don't think so. Didn't ask though."

"You seem to be unhindered by yesterday," Ezra said quietly. "Buck said you were but..."

Vin nodded. "I'm all right. Don't think I'll be playing tennis anytime soon though."

"Mr. Tanner, I had no idea you played tennis," Ezra said with a grin.

"Don't," Vin said. "Maybe I should. Good exercise."

"I'm sure you could learn -- however, I'd like to make sure you don't mistake a tennis ball for a lethal weapon. Your aim is impressive enough."

"Wouldn't quite be a line of duty injury, would it?" Vin said on a chuckle and saw Chris glance back, a smile hovering on his lips.

"I think you've managed enough of that this round," Chris said as they hit the lobby. "Check in midday if you can," he told Josiah and Ezra.

It took them a few more minutes to get sorted out, Buck and JD grabbing more gear from upstairs and loading it into the back of the Explorer Collins had provided them. By six-thirty they were headed back up the road to the med center and an hour later working their way up the construction road with Cody Hawkes and his partner right behind them.

"Jesus..." Buck couldn't help the soft oath escaping him. Chris' truck was at the top of the mound, loaded up on a wrecker -- and it was a pretty apt description. The windshield had finally given way, the cab roof crumpled and the bullets imbedded in the frame obvious the closer they got. "That may need a bit more than body work, pard," Buck said as Chris got out.

Vin only glanced at it then away, opening up the back of the Explorer to get the gun case out and open, packing in a clip and the scope and putting another couple of clips into the small pack Hawkes had provided.

"You think they are still out there, Vin?" JD asked, scanning the surrounding area.

"I dunno, kid," Vin said, locking down the case and closing up the truck before slinging the rifle over his shoulder. "Even if they are...lot of ground to cover."

"Just don't make no sense," JD said, following Vin up to the edge of the drop. "I mean...those guns are mostly collector's items but not even rare. Maybe they thought it was something else in that truck."

Vin glanced at him, then back out trying to pick up the line he'd seen the day before. The ground at the bottom of the drop, where the truck had been, was torn up a bit although he could tell the troopers had tried to be careful. The ground was just too damn soft and dry. He spotted Collins and an older man at the base of the drop, the older man walking slowly along the edge of the area, crouching now and then. A glance at Chris showed the man already had his headset on and Vin pulled his own out of the pack, smiling slightly when JD did the same. Their range and power weren't meant for this kind of country but it would work here and now.

"Chris?" he said quietly. Around him he could hear the snap and static of the walkie-talkies the troopers used. Broadband and public. "JD and I are going to head down. Looks like Collins' tracker is here."

"Right behind you," Chris said and Vin led the way, going along the shallower edge of the drop, where the troopers had already worn a path. Vin kept his eyes cast north, making sure he didn't lose the faint line he'd seen from the top.

Collins was polite as he introduced them to the older man -- and he didn't forget their names even though Vin wasn't sure the man had actually met JD. "Special Agents Tanner and Dunne. This is Carl Lawson. He's a civilian consultant."

Lawson had to be pushing the down side of sixty if not more. He'd been a stocky man in his younger days but age had pared away a lot of it, leaving him with a vague pot belly and hands gnarled with arthritis. Even with that, his grip was firm and dry. "I'se tellin' Matt his boys have tore up the ground a bit. Hal Sikes was out here yesterday and marked what he saw. Boy's got a good eye," Lawson said, pointing to the thin dowels with green flags on them stuck into the ground. "Picked up a half dozen tracks in and out."

Vin nodded, spotting the obvious signs of tire treads and broken foliage. "Some of 'em look to be a couple of days old," he said and Lawson nodded.

"Are. Had a light rain about a week ago. Not enough to get underneath but enough to give us something to go on. Freshest head west and..." he glanced over to where Vin had been searching on the way down. "East. Looks like something pushed north a bit but I didn't find any tire tracks and I should've if they'd been headed that way."

Vin bit his lip and smiled. "Doubt they humped ten gun crates out on their backs. Unless they had help."

"Be a rough hump even with a jeep," Lawson said. "That land there gets pretty rough a mile or so in. It's why the highway service is building over instead of just cutting through. I'm not sure you could get anything but a horse through there."

"Hawkes said it's been delayed," JD said. "The road."

Lawson chuckled and nodded. "Bunch of silliness. Been in the works for the better part of ten years -- environmentalists and 'Keep Colorado Beautiful' folks fighting 'em ever' step of the way. They lost the war but won the battle...was supposed to a 'scenic' route. Less damage to the area...held up, laid plans...got started and then realized they'd have to raise taxes to put in that much road to cover such a short distance. Environmentalists lost to the taxpayers. Plans got finalized about two months ago. Straight through cut. Twenty seven miles instead of sixty-eight. But they are going to have to do a lot of blasting to get through that country up there."

Vin looked, shielding his eyes from the early rise of the sun. The slope directly north was pretty steep, and he could see a rise of rock further on. "It's federal land though, isn't it?"

"Is now but it isn't protected," Collins said, joining them. "Park service would like to have part of it but it's dangerous country and not just naturally. There are dozens old mines up there...rock falls are pretty regular. Federal government has jurisdiction to keep folks off of it more than to protect it."

"If they're trying to hook up back to a road, they'd head east," Lawson said. "If they cut true enough, it's less than eight miles to hook back into state 14."

"Likely going to have to follow all three," Vin said and Lawson nodded.

"I was telling Matt that. We'll know right soon enough if they headed east."

"You really think we need to head North, Agent Tanner?" Collins asked him, glancing up as Chris and Buck descended.

"Just enough doubt to make sure. They were trying pretty hard to cover their tracks in burying us. Could be they covered more," Vin said.

"Boy's got the right of it, Matt," Lawson said and Vin smiled at being called a 'boy'. Fitting enough. Lawson was old enough to be his grandfather. He reminded Vin a little of his grandfather in fact, only a lot friendlier. "Mostly rock up that way -- careful driver might be able to get past that rise without leaving a tread...or might have parked back there. Might take about a half hour to walk crates that way."

Collins halted their discussion long enough to introduce Chris and Buck. "We're thinking of setting out on all three tracks," Collins said. "Carl thinks east is most likely and west has the freshest trail. Your man wants north."

"Sikes can handle the east run," Lawson said. "He's good enough for that." He eyed Vin. "You're a bit younger than me, Agent Tanner," he said speculatively and Vin grinned broadly at him.

"I think I still might have some trouble keeping up," Vin said. "We can check it. Like you said, it's going to pay off or pan out not far over the ridge and that's a long hike West."

Lawson laughed. "Is that, but mostly downhill."

"I'll get my men moving," Collins said. "Tanner, if you're heading up, make sure you take Hawkes with you. That fancy mic rig of yours won't carry past the first gully."

"Glad to have him," Vin said, meeting Collins' gaze.

"Let's do it then," Chris said easily, catching only half of it and Vin shook his head, waiting for Collins to move off with Lawson, already calling up his teams. "Are we gonna have a problem with him?" Chris asked quietly, Buck and JD hovering close.

"Couldn't tell you," Vin said with a shrug. "Maybe he doesn't like my hair cut."

Buck snorted and glanced over at the Commander. "Could be just that, Vin. So what are we doing?"

"How far you think you need to go in?" Chris asked, looking up the rise.

"A mile maybe," Vin said. "Till we hit dirt...that's mostly rock, no matter what it looks like. But that line is fresh, Chris," he said and pointed and Chris squinted to try and follow the near invisible line Vin was pointing out. "Fresher than what Lawson has found anyway, or I think so. Been awhile since I did this."

"All right. Get Hawkes. Buck, you up to a hike in the woods?" Chris asked. "I need to get with the forensics guys and Team 3 when they get here. JD, I'm sending you back to the inn...get hooked up with Nate and see if we can get anything on this, other thefts, World War 2 re-enactments, whatever." Chris turned around and headed up again, the other three falling in step. "Collins is right about the set ranges. Hawkes!" he called the trooper over.

Hawkes looked pretty pleased to be going, he and Buck sorting out day packs from the trunk of the patrol car and getting radios and maps. Vin accepted his, shouldering it on carefully before slinging his rifle over his shoulder again. "Shouldn't take us more than a couple of hours," Vin told Chris and gratefully accepted a billed cap and sunglasses from Hawkes.

"Just watch yourselves," Chris said to all three of them but his eyes fixed on Vin.

Vin gave a nod and smiled. "Don't worry. Buck'll keep me from falling over a cliff."

"Only if you can find 'em before we walk off 'em," Buck said cheerfully and they headed out.

Vin started slow. Anymore, tracking was something he did more as a past time than a real pursuit or need and the line he'd been trying so carefully to keep in his head all morning was harder to spot closer up but he hadn't imagined it. There were scrapes and turned leaves to be found, all travelling far less straightly than if they'd been made by a passing animal -- even a clumsy one. Clotted mud on the rock scraped from a shoe or boot, but no real foot prints.

It took them a half hour to reach the top of the ridge and Vin really did half expect to see wider tracks from where a vehicle had parked. It would have been a pain to haul the crates up here but it was possible they could have and had Vin not been on site so quickly, what faint traces were to be found would have been gone.

But there were no truck or ATV tracks. The line continued and he found that pretty bizarre. Standing on the crest of the ridge he pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, feeling Buck at his back. "Need a break, Vin?" he asked, soft and quiet. Hawkes was tracking along the ridge, seeing if he saw anything else.

"Nah. I'm okay but this is just...I'm not sure you could get a truck through here," Vin said, looking at the jagged landscape. If it wasn't densely packed trees and scrub it was rock: bare, hard and jagged. "Lawson was probably right," he said and pulled the rifle, snapping the scope into place so he could use it, following the thin line, no more than a couple of feet across. Maybe it was a clumsy bear they'd been tracking.

Grey rock greeted him through the narrow sight, a disturbance of earth and leaves, the leaves themselves making it difficult to make out a track as they flitted and lifted in the slight breeze. He started down again, seeing a patch of dark earth forty yards out where a seedling was still trying to come up, bent half way to the ground by the winds and snow that probably covered this area in winter. He glanced through the scope again and caught a flash of pale, bringing the scope back carefully. Broken. The pulpier paleness of unprotected wood was small, but the seedling was definitely snapped.

Buck stayed behind him and Hawkes behind Buck, Vin raising a hand to keep them back from the small area of dirt the sapling had managed to find purchase and nutrients in, while he crouched and then beckoned them forward. The boot print was clean, heel to toe, crushing the sapling and snapping it then vanishing again into more rock, more impression absorbing leaves.

Buck stared at it then out and back. "Fresh?"

Vin nodded. "Looks to be. Sapling's springing back but the sap isn't hard. Find me another and we'll get a stride."

They did move, fanning out carefully and it was Hawkes who found a partial, on the far side: a twisted impression as if someone had slipped.

"On foot," Buck said, rising up and staring, then moving along the rocks.

"Looks to be," Vin said and it made no sense. The print he'd found didn't look deep enough to be that of an overburdened man and they'd have to be to be carrying five cases between two men. They'd also have to be built like pack mules to get this far and the man Vin had shot at in the tractor cab had hardly been that.

"Hawkes..." Buck watched Vin and Vin knew he looked just as confused as Buck was. "Call your boss. Make sure none of your guys got ambitious and headed out this far."

"Orders were to stick close," Hawkes said but he pulled his radio.

"And I'm really hoping they followed orders but check anyway. Last thing I want to be doing is tracking your guys," Buck said with an affable grin.

Vin turned around and hiked back up to the top of the ridge. He could see the construction site, the equipment: it looked like Team 3 had gotten an early start. He tracked their own climb up and followed it, north, staring at the landscape.

Then he started walking, going slow, past Buck and Hawkes, eyes down to the ground then out.

"Nobody's been up that we know of," Hawkes said, calling out and following.

"Vin?"

"I don't know yet, Buck," Vin said and he didn't because it made absolutely no sense. Another hundred yards out and he found another set of prints on a down slope, the ground so steep even the leaves tumbled down it, scoured and cleared except for old dirt left by the winter snows and the spring thaws. He didn't know where they were going but for now the only path they could take was this.

They lost sight of the construction site as the ground dropped and had to go slow to keep from sliding -- which their quarry hadn't: they were in a hurry now, the obscuring of their trail, whether by accident or on purpose, abandoned in their need for haste.

Clear prints at the bottom of the wash where a small stream rang sluggishly among the rock. Vin didn't even have to cross it to follow them and pick up the trail. He could see their prints, strides lengthening. They were hurrying, running, but the depth of the prints still showed them to be unburdened and there were no tire marks, not even dirt bikes, although they'd be fools to use them up here.

They hiked the next rise and stopped for water. Vin closed his eyes briefly, the throb in his head almost, almost, overshadowing the one in his arm. He sipped water and then picked up his radio. "Seven North to Larrabee."

It took a moment and Vin had to stand, move a little higher. The reception sucked, even with the more powerful shortbands.

"Go ahead, North."

"We've got a trail, Chris, but they're on foot. Moving fast. We may have the right guys but they don't have the guns."

"Could they have doubled back? I mean, could they have come out the road -- had a truck waiting?" Chris asked and Vin knew he was thinking out loud as much as anything.

"It's possible, but why were they hanging around then?"

"Good question. Head back, North."

"It's pretty clear, Chris. We can keep going."

"You got nothing but sixty miles of wilderness, Tanner," Chris said. "And they've got a day on you. Head back."

"On our way. North out," Vin said and looked at his companions. "You heard the man."

"Maybe it was aliens," Buck said, sounding a little disgusted as they started the climb back. "So, they hijack a truck, take the guns and do what with them? Bury them?"

"Could they have unpacked them and shoulder packed them?" Hawkes asked.

"Maybe," Vin said. "But they'd still have been heavy and these guys are all but sprinting." Vin glanced back at the trail. "Two guys and fifty rifles?" He shifted his own rifle on his shoulder. Not terribly heavy but if he were carrying ten or more of them -- it would be hard to walk, much less run.

"And we'd have found the boxes," Buck said. "Or at least where they buried them."

Vin stopped, gripping Buck's arm. "They might have," he said softly and picked up his radio again. "Seven North to Larabee."

"Larrabee..."

"Chris...take a look around the base of the dirt pile...I mean a deep look, below where they dumped your truck."

"What have you got?"

"Maybe nothing, but these guys aren't carrying boxes...I'm not sure they are carrying the guns -- or at least not all of them. JD said it this morning: that maybe they thought there was something else in that truck," Vin said and watched comprehension hit Buck's face then Hawkes. "Maybe there _was_ something else in that truck."

"We're checking it, Vin," Chris said and it sounded like he was moving. "Keep coming in. I need to call Josiah and Ezra and makes sure they ask the right questions."

"North, out," Vin said and took a deeper breath, eyeing the slope. Hawkes was already leading up the steep slope they'd just descended, trying to keep one foot on the rocks and the other on the trail and he was still bending low, traction iffy. Buck did the same thing and Vin found himself almost on hands and knees and having to stop to rehang the rifle across his back because it kept throwing him off balance. The last three or four feet and he found Buck's hand out and he grabbed it gratefully. He was sweating like he'd run a marathon even though the air was cool. His shoulder ached like a brand; the straps of his back pack irritating his muscles.

"Take a seat," Buck said and Vin shook his head. They had another shallower trek and rise before they reached the ridge near the construction site.

"It's not far. Chris'll be wearing a trench." Vin wiped his face with his shirt tail.

"Vin," Buck was in front of him, hand wrapped around his good arm. "Sit. You go back looking like that and he'll bench you," he said quietly and Vin blinked then glanced at Hawkes who looked a little worried.

"What?" Vin asked, annoyed and ready to get back and then rest, but Buck reached up his other hand, not quite touching his left sleeve.

"I've seen ghosts with more color," Buck said and Vin looked, saw the dark stain on the blue flannel, turning it black. "I don't think this is what that doctor had in mind when he said rest and fluids. You might want to rethink those stitches."

"Shit," Vin said softly but let Buck take the rifle and pack and almost cursed again when Hawkes moved in, pulling his own pack off and rummaging inside for a first aid kit. He pulled off the over shirt and looked. The wound wasn't exactly pumping blood, just soaking the bandage through.

Vin sat on the edge of the rocks and drank the bottle of water Buck handed him, letting Hawkes put a fresh pad and gauze around the wound and kept the arm up for a few minutes. He said nothing when Buck finally nodded, but took his flannel and tied it around his waist before shouldering his pack and rifle again. He didn't ask Buck or Hawkes to keep it quiet even though he wanted to, but they didn't stop him from carrying his own load either. The rest of the hike back was easier and Vin had to admit that the water had eased the ache in his head a bit.

They topped the ridge and paused, looking below. Vin could see Chris at the bottom of the dirt mound, blonde head uncovered and standing next to Collins while a half dozen guys used shovels to move the soft dirt. There was a bobcat standing by as well but it was idle, the forensics team moving in and around the site. Even as they started down, one of the men hit something and carefully scraped more dirt away, Chris and Collins moving in.

"Looks like they found something…guess it would be too much to hope they struck gold," Buck said, keeping a little ahead of Vin.

"Depends on what kind of gold you want," Vin said, bracing a hand on Buck's shoulder for the last bit of their descent, along the steepest part. They took their time, since too many more bodies around the digging would just make it harder.

"Son of a bitch," Buck swore softly as two troopers bent and carefully lifted a wooden crate from the dirt pile. Two of the rifles were still wedged into their slots but the other three slots were empty.

Vin just watched, drinking bit more water. He thought about taking the pack off but it would hurt more to do that than leaving it where it was. Chris saw him, studied him for a few moments, eyes narrowing but he said nothing, talking to Collins and Richard McMillan, the supervisor for Team 3. Buck moved toward the trio with a nod at Vin.

Crossing the short distance, Vin sat against the bumper of the bobcat and pulled his cap off, raking a hand through his damp hair as the excavation continued. More crates, and rifles too, Vin keeping a count in his head. Hawkes startled him, suddenly appearing beside him when Vin didn't even realize he'd slipped away. He offered Vin a sports drink bottle and Vin chuckled at the neon blue of it. "Kinda makes you wonder what they put in this, don't it?" he said but opened it, taking a cautious sip. It tasted like cherries and orange, almost too sweet but it was cold.

"I try not to think about it too much," Hawkes said with a grin. "My son loves that stuff. Here." He handed Vin an apple as well and then went to Buck to offer him a drink as well, saving the other -- bright orange -- for himself before returning to sit next to Vin.

"You're boss doesn't look too happy," Hawkes said. "Thought he might be…since we found the guns."

Vin nodded and took a bite of the apple. "He probably is about that, but it doesn’t explain why they hit the truck in the first place. Gives us a whole new set of problems."

"Does seem like a lot of work for something," Hawkes said.

It was and Vin was pretty good at going over the obvious. Could have been drugs, or maybe weapons of a higher caliber. He didn't envy the owner of Harmon's Salvage. He'd finished his apple by the time Chris pulled away, he and Buck heading back toward and Hawkes got to his feet but Vin stayed sitting.

"All of them there?" Vin asked.

"Looks to be. Forensics is taking the cases apart and going over the truck again. We missed something," Chris said and wiped at his eyes. The day was warming up and Vin was glad it wasn't just him and not because of his arm. He handed Chris what was left in his bottle of juice. "You got in a mile or so, right?"

Vin nodded. "About that. Trail was getting easier. We going to follow it?"

Chris took a deep swallow of the juice and wiped his mouth. "Yeah. Trails east and west didn't offer much. Collins is calling in horses for us but it's going to be a couple of hours. Wants Lawson along but…"

"He'd be good, Chris. I don't know this country," Vin said.

"They've still got almost a day on us," Buck said.

"And they could get pretty far but unless they cut back, there's not much out there," Hawkes said. "Even if they traveled all night they'd barely make it to the highway, up near the lakes.

"If that's where they were going," Chris said. "I want to see what Josiah and Ezra have found out. Go back to the inn, get packs made up for overnight, just in case. Hawkes…"

"Aunt Henny'll have most of what you need: packs, sleeping bags," Hawkes said. "And I ride."

Chris grinned at him. "That's what your boss said. He wants you and your partner to go with us and Lawson. McMillan and his Team are going to stay here. Buck, you up for a bit of trail riding?"

"Well, I can think of at least three other things I'd rather do today, but yeah," Buck said.

"Let me guess: blonde, brunette and redhead," Chris said at the grin on Buck's face.

"Two blondes and a silken lady," Buck said with a chuckle. "Damn boat is still at the service station. Your guys aren't going to give me a ticket are they?" he asked Hawkes.

Hawkes smiled back. "Depends on how much of an eyesore it is. Tourist country, remember?"

"You are so screwed," Vin said with a smile and Chris laughed but he was still cutting his eyes at Vin.

"Let's head up," Chris said and they did, Buck and Hawkes leading, while Buck tried to find out if the trooper knew anyone who would haul the boat to Denver for him. Halfway up the path, Chris reached over and took the rifle, slinging it over his own shoulder. "Arm's bleeding again," he said quietly and Vin looked, seeing the bright spot of blood on the fresh bandage.

"Not much."

"It's enough," Chris said.

"How's your head?" Vin asked.

"Aching fit to bust," Chris admitted and looked down for a moment. "Just be sure, Vin. No easy way to haul you back."

"Don't want you to have to," Vin said. "It's sore. It bleeds a bit when I use it too much. Won't need to when I'm horseback."

They topped the trail and headed for the Explorer, Chris hauling the back open and opening the gun case. Vin took the weapon and broke it down, storing it and closed the lid, sitting on the open back and folding his arms over his chest. He felt all right, tense and sore but his head wasn't hurting anymore after the juice and more fluids would make sure it didn't. "Job's more important." He said at last, knowing it was and it pissed him off a little.

"Yeah, it is. See how you feel in a couple of hours," Chris said and met his gaze, his own expression letting Vin know he understood why it was important for him to be in on this. And it was, but getting the job done was more important and Vin knew the difference. "Let's go see if Josiah and Ezra got anything. Be helpful if we had a clue what we're looking for."

"Or who, " Vin said looking back over the rugged country. "Wish t'hell I knew where they were headed."

Chris nodded but there was anxiety in his face. "I just wish to hell I knew why they were in such a hurry to get there," he said and Vin took a shallower breath, picking up in that instant the idea that they might not have a lot of time to figure it out.

~~end part two~~ 

 

Part Three

Henrietta Hawkes looked a little surprised to see them back so soon but then she was off with her nephew and his partner, rummaging through the storage rooms and closets to pull out gear she hadn't really expected to need until later in the season. Chris catalogued it all, watching, but Cody Hawkes seemed to know what he was doing and he left the five of them: Henny, Cody, Jay Winston, Buck and Vin to sort out and put together enough gear for all of them.

He tracked JD down in Henny's small office, the kid clearing away a corner of her big antique desk and taking over the fax line she kept for reservations. JD had looked a little disappointed to be sent back but whatever he'd felt then was gone now. Happier than a pig in mud, Buck would say.

"Got topography maps," JD said looking up, flipping the lap top around so Chris could see. "Nate's pulling the geological surveys from the state and sending 'em too me. Find anything?"

"They look to be heading North but we found the guns," Chris said, looking over the clear display. "You pitched it right, JD. They may have been looking for something else in that truck," he said and caught the confusion on JD's face. It passed a moment later.

"Sheesh...I was just thinking it seemed a lot to go through...I didn't even know Vin was listening to me."

Chris grinned. "That'll teach you. Have to be careful what you say around Tanner. You never know when it will come back and bite you."

"Yeah," JD said. "So, what were they after?"

"That we don't know yet. You got anything on the road cut? DOT plans?"

JD shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. "No, but Nate and I can get them. Anything in particular?"

"I want to see the new route, the old route. They used that cut in for a reason and if wasn't because they had a truck waiting, I just want to see what else they might know that we don't." Chris said, sitting on the edge of the desk.

JD chewed on his lip. "I can get the stuff but I can't print it...I mean Ms. Hawkes said I could use her fax-printer but it's just black and white and not really meant for these maps."

And they might need those maps. "Check with Cody Hawkes or his partner. See if you can borrow what you need and if not we may buy it. We have a few hours before we can go back in," Chris said and laid out the rest of the plan, JD listening intently. "Need you to stay here because it's a sure bet Josiah and Ezra are going to come back and need background checks."

"Did already," JD said, checking the legal pad he had scribbled notes all over. "Asked for a lookup on Mark Todd. Works for Harmon. Nate's running it."

Chris rubbed his jaw and pulled out his phone. "They say why?"

"No, just asked for it. You're probably going to have to use the land line," JD said when Chris couldn't get a signal.

"Oh, this is going to suck," Chris said flatly, staring at the phone and JD just grinned and handed him the handset from the phone on Henny's desk and dialed up Josiah's cell phone.

It took a few moments, the ring through sounding scratchy before Josiah answered with a deep "Sanchez."

"Josiah, Chris. JD says you are running checks..."

"And hello to you too, boss," Josiah said, but Chris could hear the smile on his face in his tone and forced himself to be patient. "That we have. Caught up with Mr. Harmon who has been very cooperative, very talkative. Did you know that the biggest market for vintage world war two guns and paraphernalia created by Americans is in Europe? Or that Americans are the biggest buyers of the same paraphernalia from England, France Germany and Spain. And they said a global economy would fail," Josiah said and Chris couldn't help but grin.

"Talks a lot does he?"

"Yes...and he has a nearly captive audience. I do believe Ezra will be requesting a bureau paid for visit to a sensory deprivation tank," Josiah said and Chris chuckled. "So, what we have is a mere slip of fact. Hank Davis wasn't originally supposed to make the run yesterday. Another employee, Mark Todd, was. He and Davis loaded the truck Friday night, but Todd never showed the next morning. Nor has he been seen since Friday night."

"Any ideas?" Chris asked and Josiah hesitated. In the background Chris could hear other voices, one of them Ezra, but he was saying a lot less than the other voice, which Chris didn't recognize.

"Some. Todd was arrested a bit back for DUI, he just recently got his driving privileges restored. But he used to be the primary driver. Mr. Harmon says Todd has worked for him for nearly five years, Davis for a little less than two. Mr. Todd, by all accounts, is a reliable employee, unless he decides to celebrate the odd paycheck or two and Friday was payday. He's never missed work unless he's in jail."

"Did you check on it?" Chris asked

"We did. So did Harmon and called Todd's wife. Ft. Collins police are talking to her -- Harmon's call made her put out a missing persons alert."

"So, what's your take on it?" Chris asked.

"Still hunting for pieces. We need to ask Davis why he didn't mention it, but I suspect, if Mr. Harmon is correct, the two are friends and Davis may have thought nothing of it. Harmon swears to be more historian than gun aficionado and to see this place, I'm tempted to agree. I've seen museums with less information and variety." Josiah lowered his voice a bit. "Too early to say if there's any connection. Ezra's instinct was to let the man ramble and I agree, but it could take awhile. JD should have a description of Todd and as soon as we get the information back from Nathan, we may know more."

Chris blew out a breath. "All right. We're going to be here a couple of hours. We're tracking in. Found the guns and cases but our perps headed for the hills anyway and we can't get any closer to them any faster without horses. McMillan's already put a search chopper on standby but we're going to have to give them some kind idea what they're looking for. Be nice if we knew too."

"Are you thinking drugs?"

"Hell if I know, Josiah. I'm leaving JD here and we'll have phones some of the time. Radios the rest of the time but communication is likely to be in and out. Any idea how long you'll be at this?"

"No way to know," Josiah said. "We still haven't talked to Davis but we will. We can do a check in before you head out. You and Buck?"

"And Vin," Chris said and chewed his lip at the silence. "Couple of troopers, local tracker. Probably overnight unless we find something. I'm going to talk to Ms. Hawkes about keeping the inn as a base. Cody says it should work out all right. Most of her guests are here on the weekends."

"And a far more charming base and hostess we could not hope to find," Josiah said.

Chris chuckled. "You competing with Buck now, 'ziah?"

"Have to see if she cooks dinner as well as she does breakfast," Josiah said with a laugh but his humor dropped off quickly. "Check back before you head out, Chris. I'll try to hurry this along..."

"Good enough," Chris said and hung up, looking at the youngest member of his team who was busy taking more notes on something he'd pulled off the computer. "Let me know when you get something, JD."

JD nodded and got to his feet. "See what I can do about the printer. Hawkes may have maps. Overnight?"

"Maybe," Chris said as they walked out of the office together. "It's going to be mid afternoon before we get the horses in and no idea how far in we're gonna have to go. Josiah and Ezra will be back in as quick as they can, but I wouldn't expect them until tonight unless they get lucky."

Henny's assistant Lita directed them to a back parlor and JD homed in on Cody Hawkes like a dog on a scent. The gear laid out was lightweight, standard for hikers, the sleeping bags thermal rated enough for the current weather. Jay Winston and Buck were going over a short list with Henny who looked as if she might already have it memorized. Vin was to the side, a cardboard box open and he was pulling out shirts.

"Lost and found," he said, when Chris approached and Vin tossed him a long sleeved sweatshirt. There were two or three shirts to the side. "What did Ez and 'ziah come up with?"

"Not a whole lot yet," Chris admitted unable to help himself by glancing at Vin's arm. The blood was dried again. "Maybe something -- was supposed to be another driver," he said and Buck stopped what he was doing to listen. Noting the change in the room, Henny excused herself to get provisions and Chris gave them what little he had.

"Park service is bringing up a trailer with mounts. Should be there by two or so," Jay Winston said. "Mountain horses and geared." Winston had a back east accent Chris noted, quieter than his partner.

"Commander Collins is bringing Carl back here," Hawkes said and then moved to help Henny with a box of food.

"All right, let's get packed up," Chris said, picking up the pack Buck pointed to along with a sleeping bag.

Henny was pretty efficient, the men splitting the supplies and gear between them, trying to keep the packs as light as possible then they split up to get what personal items they might need.

Back in his room, Chris watched Vin pack in extra magazines for both his sidearm and the rifle and did the same. Chris made sure he packed his pills and the extra bandages, ignoring Vin's rolled eyes. Finished, Vin set his pack by the door and stripped off his T-shirt, starting the water in the shower and Chris silently helped him get the waterproof bandage in place again, before closing the door and stripping. He ignored Vin's gaze, resisting the urge to blush as Tanner's eyes slid down his body, with enough appreciation and heat to boil Chris' blood.

"You really do have a one track mind," he said.

"Sometimes," Vin said. "Thought you liked that about me," he said on a chuckle.

"I do," Chris said, coming up behind Vin to rest his hand on his lower back while Vin stripped off his jeans. This probably wasn't the most appropriate time or place for the thoughts he was having but he didn't try overly hard to stop them. It wasn't even the thought of danger or the fact that for the next few days, it was unlikely they would have time or privacy enough for anything more than a few shared glances.

Right now though, he had no information to work and they couldn't go anywhere until they had the horses and it would be a couple of days before they could get another shower...and...

He hadn't even noticed Vin had turned around, Chris' hand now resting on his hip. "Stop thinking so hard, Chris. You're making _my_ head hurt," Vin said, with just enough teasing to bring Chris' attention back. The bathroom was already warm and damp and moist from the steam and Vin's skin, where it pressed against Chris', slid, smooth as silk.

"We could use a bed, you know," Chris said, the hand on Vin's hip sliding back and down.

"Yeah, but we can do water conservation first and won't have t'worry about messing up Henny's sheets," Vin said with a lazy grin. His eyes were bright, body pressing more firmly against Chris' as Chris dug fingers into the firm curve of his ass, one finger tracing the crease there, teasing. His breath quickened as Vin's eyes darkened, then he couldn't breathe at all for a second, Vin's mouth sealing over his, stealing his air and a few thoughts as well. Vin pulled him back, pulling his mouth away and Chris followed, like a horse following a carrot, barely able to tell the difference between the hot water that splashed on his skin as Vin drew him into the shower and the heat already building inside him.

Vin's skin tasted of sweat, sweetly salty at shoulder and throat, Chris sucking lightly on the damp skin, then biting gently as Vin teased his jaw and ear, duplicating the bite he'd given Chris this morning. It sent a shiver through him, hot water no match for the reaction that Vin's hands and mouth could produce. Chris found himself pressed back to the tiles under the showerhead, Vin sucking and licking and biting his way down Chris' chest, leaving little points of sensation and pleasure in his path. He pushed his hand through the long wet hair and swallowed heavily as Vin lifted his face to the water, rivulets of water washing over his neck and chest and Chris felt like he was suddenly dying of thirst and starving.

Vin's mouth eased his thirst but not his hunger and he moaned softly as the slim body rubbed against him, then a hand stroked him, brought him up fast and hard. Slick skin met his hands as he crouched down, Vin's breathing taking an unsteady quality as Chris stroked him in return then closed his lips around the flushed, swollen head of Vin's cock. He stopped getting water in his face when Vin leaned forward, body arched and braced by his good arm, providing a canopy with his body, the water sheeting off his sides. His other hand rested in Chris' hair, stroked through it and along his neck and shoulders. The blue eyes were open and glittering with need as Vin watched Chris take more of his cock into his mouth, sucking and licking. Vin rocked a little, just barely, Chris letting the hot, soft skin slip against his tongue and lips, swallowing a little and he heard Vin hiss and moan softly, body tensing.

Chris slid a hand between Vin’s legs and back a little, probing softly and felt Vin shudder at the intimate touch, then again as Chris pressed deeper, adding a second finger.

"Jesus...Chris..." Vin hissed his name and rocked a little more purposefully against his hand, against his mouth, Chris able to see the long ripples of reaction in Vin's muscles. Tight heat enclosed his fingers, clenching around them and Chris' cock ached in envy. He lifted his mouth but kept stroking, looking up into Vin's face. Parted lips tried for words but failed, Vin only nodded, stilling himself with effort as Chris pulled back and Vin made room for him to stand, turning to face the side wall and grip the towel bar, legs spread and back still arched.

The slight differences in their heights made it easier, Chris leaning in and gripping the bar next to Vin's hand and easing himself into the ready body. He guided himself and then pressed his hand to Vin's belly as the other man went up on his toes, breath hissing out as Vin pushed back. Christ, was there ever anything sweeter than this? He could only wonder, holding Vin steady, wanting it slow, deep and chuckling against the side of Vin's neck at his lover's impatience. Vin, who could sit and wait out a bust silently and without moving -- for hours if need be -- had little patience in lovemaking -- wanted it all fast and intense and most of all, _now_. Vin tried again, pushing back and Chris leaned in, pressing hard, trapping Vin between his body and the bar and the tiles, pressing deep and slow.

He could feel the tremors take hold, inside himself, inside Vin, so sharp and so fast. Vin panted softly, body tense, wanting movement, sensation. Chris remained still, his cock feeling swollen, filling the warm space, the tight grip of Vin's muscles like a caress.

"Oh, God...gonna be one of those, ain't it?" Vin said breathlessly, caught between laughter and desire and Chris only smiled and wrapped his hand around the other man's cock, squeezing, stroking, moving slow and steady. It would be so easy to let go, to push in and pull back, hard and deep and fast. He wanted more. He wanted to be overwhelmed, wanted to overwhelm Vin. Tangled feelings of near loss and gratitude mixed with fear and elation and a little anger at Vin's stubbornness, pride at his courage...Chris sinking as deeply into the love he felt for this man as his body sought the depths of Vin's.

"I'm an old man...need to take these things slow. Besides you need to be able to mount a horse," Chris said roughly against Vin's shoulder and neck, pulling back and then in, coiled heat in his belly and groin, like a tightening spring. Vin gasped and moaned as he pushed in, sensation making the lean body tremble again, muscles quivering. Vin rested his forehead against the tiles and shifted, up on his toes again.

"I think I'm pretty well mounted, right now," Vin said on a laugh that was cut in half by a groan. "Maybe you need someone older...you now, more your speed," Vin hissed back, rocking with Chris, pressing his cock into the tightness of Chris' fist, letting Chris guide him, set the rhythm.

"Smart ass," Chris said, rocking his hips and twisting, just a little, Vin's grip slipping on the bar as Chris stroked within him just right.

"You're gonna kill me, Larabee," he whispered, cock twitching, leaking come onto Chris' hand, slicking his palm. Vin cursed softly and his breath caught again as orgasm took him, washed through him and over him. Chris wanted to see his face but all he could see was the curve of Vin's cheek, the dark smudge of wet lashes on his skin as he turned his head, leaning against one arm, body rocking with Chris', pliant and warm.

"No time soon. I think I may just wait for you to catch up: ten, twenty years," Chris said and felt Vin clench around him, body jerking, tensing, then going all but boneless as Chris moved a little faster.

Tighter and tighter, Chris holding his breath for when the spring would snap, spin out of control. It did with a suddenness he didn't expect. Vin was slick but still tight, Chris holding him tighter still, fucking him easily and steadily while Vin's fingers closed over his on the bar, body meeting him stroke for stroke. He swore as well when the hard coil of release washed through him, escaped him, and he leaned heavily against Vin's back, tasting wet hair and skin. The water had cooled a bit or he was just overheated and flushed. He stroked across Vin's belly, the other man turning, twisting slightly, mouth seeking Chris' and then it was Vin holding Chris up, his back to the tiles, the water washing them clean and cooling them down.

Vin's face was still flushed, eyes still dark as they searched his face and Chris didn't know what Vin was looking for, only knew when he found it, the generous mouth curving into a smile.

"What are you grinning at?" Chris asked, halfway between a growl and more laughter, because Vin looked smug and smirkingly satisfied.

"Ten years, huh?" Vin asked, eyes dancing and Chris silenced his laughter with his mouth, Vin's arms hooking under his arms and up to his shoulders.

Forever maybe, but Chris didn't say it. It would be a meaningless promise, a hope he didn't dare voice for a second time. Now, now, and now: every minute for as long as he could hold onto it, hold onto Vin. Ten years, ten minutes. Ten seconds more...

He didn't release Vin but he turned the water off, and Chris held his breath in the silence, counting. Vin held a little tighter then pulled back. He touched Chris' lips, the laughter gone from his eyes but not the warmth, as if he knew, as if it had been spoken aloud. Then he reached past Chris to open the shower door and stepped out, reaching for a towel.

Chris stayed a moment longer, shivering as the cooler air washed over his skin until Vin handed him a towel as well. Maybe there should be an apology in there somewhere. He dried his hair instead.

No recriminations from Vin, who left the bathroom first and threw clean jeans at Chris as he got his own, smiling still.

For half a second Chris watched him, not hiding his interest in watching Vin pull the worn soft jeans on again. Half a second before he closed his eyes and wondered for the first time since they'd started this -- affair, romance...partnership that went far deeper than that same set of roles within the Team -- if he shouldn't end it. Cut Vin loose, disentangle himself from it all, from the loss Chris knew was coming, trusting it -- this -- would be torn away from him again.

A shirt hit him in the face, Vin staring back, holding his gaze for a long moment before shaking his head and pulling his own borrowed shirt on over tank style T-shirt, the grey Henley looking worn and soft.

"Vin..."

"I didn't ask, Chris. I will never ask..." Vin said quietly and grabbed up his socks and boots "I don't need...," he stopped, the words he wasn't saying hung between them like a piece of crystal ready to shatter at the first breath on its fragile surface. Vin pulled his socks on over the ankle sheath and then his boots, stomping down to settle them before looking at Chris, blue eyes dark once more but not with passion. "I don't need to," he finished and took the four strides necessary to stand in front of Chris and kiss him, hard and almost angrily. "I'm going to take my gear down and check with JD." Pulling away, he grabbed up his pack and left the room. Left his own room, leaving Chris standing with a crumpled shirt in his hands and Vin's taste on his lips.

It had been a joke, no more. He knew it. Teasing and after-play and Vin asking him for nothing more than he already wanted to give.

No promises.

________________________________________

Chris was silently grateful that Vin didn't pursue their last words with looks or tone or body. He only glanced up as Chris entered the office, JD waiting impatiently for a file to print off while Buck read the same information off the screen of the laptop. The tense anticipation of all three men let Chris know they had more information, if not a real break.

"Background check on Mark Todd," Vin said almost snatching the papers out of JD's hands to hand to Chris.

"Josiah or Ezra call?" Chris asked, reading over the information quickly and not entirely happy with what he read. "Jeez...demolitions, ex-ordnance officer? What else?"

"Haven't yet," Buck said. "We were going to call them," he added and picked up the phone at Chris' quick nod.

"Does Harmon deal in explosives?" Chris asked, searching through the papers.

"He doesn't have a license for them and Todd's certification has been revoked," JD said. "Six years ago he was put on partial disability -- lost the sight in his left eye. DOT took him off service."

"Still doesn't give us much," Chris said. "He's only missing."

"Might have more to do with the DOT than anything," Vin said. "Called the lab boys but they haven't barely finished taking samples from those crates, much less had 'em analyzed. It's a reach though, Chris. Environmentalists trying to stop the road? Who knows? Maybe we spooked 'em."

"If Todd was supposed to be driving...whatever he was carrying may have been supposed to get passed off with no one noticing," JD said. "He didn't show and Davis got stuck with it -- wrong time and place."

"So why didn't he show?" Chris asked, listening to the theories, ideas: it was all they had. Like framing a puzzle and hope the rest of the pieces would fall into place as they got more information. Buck had Ezra on the phone, keeping it short and sweet before hanging up and shaking his head. "Anything?"

"Not much. They're talking to Davis. Harmon gave them a lot of information but not much they could use," Buck said. "According to his boss, though, Todd isn't all that bitter about the disability. Harmon says he's the easiest guy in the world to get along with unless he's been drinking. They've had nothing show up at jail, hospitals or morgue, either. Guy has vanished."

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose then his temple. "We showing any similar thefts? Any trouble with the construction site?"

"They had some vandalism a few months back but mostly just paint and horse manure," JD said. "Nothing much more than irritating."

"I'm going to ride the lab boys," Chris said after a moment. "Check with Collins and make sure we have a reliable way to get information back to JD and then to Nate and out again. We should be able to use radios as long as we aren't down in a gully somewhere. Buck, get back on with Ezra. Get notes -- have him fax them if he needs too. Vin, see if you can find Hawkes . Get back up to the site and make sure we have what we need, maps, compasses and get everything any of them know about his area. They have to be headed somewhere. We'll bring your gear up."

It was enough to get them moving. For once, Chris missed his own office, missed having access to files and personnel and experts at his beck and call. The whole thing left a sour taste in his mouth. He read over the data sheet on Todd again, wondering where the man fit into all of this. Forty-three years old, married, two kids: both teenagers. He'd been in the army, worked with explosives there and then found a job with the DOT in demolitions when he got out and worked for them for a little over ten years. Six years ago there had been an accident and Todd lost one eye, pensioned out, on partial disability and he went to work for Harmon. He'd been arrested a few times, mostly for drunk and disorderly, public nuisance, nothing on the sheet about getting into fights. He was an obnoxious drunk but not a violent one. The DUI seemed to have done some good. Todd hadn't been arrested since it was issued.

The picture wasn't flattering and it wasn't familiar. Todd was short and stocky, black haired, eye color listed as brown. Despite his credentials and his arrest record, he didn't have the feel of someone dangerous or desperate, but things changed and maybe he'd needed cash.

He left the picture on the desk, emerging to catch Hawkes and Vin on their way out. Vin had added his ATF jacket to his clothes and he hesitated only a moment. "I'll see you on site," he said and Chris nodded.

Not until after he saw them pull out did he think maybe he should have said something more.

Or not, he decided, shifting gears, realigning his thoughts. They had a case to solve and not much to go on. Not for the first time did he recognize that he and Vin needed to talk, but the time slipped by and the circumstances and Chris gave himself a vicious mental note to not wait until there was a misunderstanding or crisis between them when he tried to listen to his own heart. Vin deserved better.

An hour later they were all headed out, Vin calling to say the horses had arrived and Ezra and Josiah not returning for another couple of hours. The talk with Davis hadn't revealed much more.

Richard McMillan had a little more, Team 3's leader was a little older than Chris, a rock solid investigator. His team was young, energetic but not always as thorough as their boss. "Your thieves may have dumped the antiques but they were armed well enough," McMillan said holding up two plastic bags for Chris to see. One held the spent shell casings from a rifle -- not an automatic, but it had been enough to rip Vin's arm, to leave a set of perforations in Chris' truck. The others were small caliber, a .45 maybe. "They dumped a lot of lead."

"Bad shots maybe," Chris said but it wasn't true. They'd managed to keep them pinned in the truck pretty well. "You getting what you need from Collins?" he asked, keeping his voice low. The State Patrol commander wasn't around but his men were.

"So far. Problem?"

"Don't know. Maybe he just doesn't like this much trouble in his range. Seems to be a pretty quiet area."

"I'll keep an eye on him," McMillan said and Chris nodded. It might just be professional jealousy, but he didn't like Collins' attitude and the last thing he wanted was a red tape snag while he was in the field.

The park service had brought up sturdy mountain horses. Solid muscle and nimble hooves and Chris watched Vin and Hawkes checking them, cutting out the fractious ones, Vin listening to the woman in a ranger’s uniform as she went over each of them. There was a pack horse too, Jay Winston getting him loaded, lightly, mostly feed for the animals. Grazing would be thin. McMillan wished him luck and Chris scanned the line catching Vin's eye. His partner nodded to a sorrel, deep-chested and Chris went up to make his acquaintance. They were trail horses, raised and trained by the park service and not likely to be anything but well behaved. Carl Lawson was already loading up a big bay: his the only saddle not carrying a rifle scabbard. Vin's rifle wouldn't fit into the standard issue scabbards for shotguns and 22’s either, and no good to him at all if he had to break it down to carry it. He had it across his back as he mounted, nudging the black over to where Chris was securing his gear.

Not quite a cowboy with his low cut hiking boots and baseball cap and sunglasses, but he suited the saddle, Vin almost happier on horseback than anywhere else and Chris gave himself a moments pleasure thinking of other positions where Vin seemed equally as happy. Vin was leaning a little forward and shifting, grinned at Chris when he caught Chris looking. "I’m mounted, cowboy," he said softly and Chris couldn't stop the flush this time, glaring at Vin who only chuckled and nudged his mount toward the trail, sitting up a little straighter. Chris blew out a breath and got seated. He needed to rein that in a bit. The last thing they needed on this little jaunt was Chris Larabee being distracted by the less obvious attributes of their sharpshooter.

It didn't take them long to pick up the trail or follow it as far as Vin and Buck had earlier: Vin and Lawson took the lead, Chris and Hawkes in between with Jay and Buck bringing up the rear and the pack horse. They checked in at nearly every rise, Chris silently fuming at how easily they could lose signals when the land dropped away. Buck and Winston kept the maps, tracking their progress. It was easier with the horses but not entirely pleasant. There was no trail cut and the horses picked their way carefully, down slopes treacherous and steep enough to give all their muscles a good work out.

Two hours in and both Vin and Lawson dismounted to check for the trail that fizzled out when they hit an expanse of solid rock about a fifty yards across. Any other time Chris might have been happy to be out here. It was quiet and cool, beautiful in a densely forested kind of way, visibility not the greatest for anything more than a few hundred yards out with lush growth and uneven terrain.

Vin went ahead, crossing the rock, leading his horse while Lawson stepped back to look up at Chris, shielding his eyes with his hands. "Gonna take us a bit to pick it up again. There's water over there, caught in a depression. May as will see if the horses are ready for a fill."

Chris assented and they all dismounted. Jay took Cody's horse, and Chris took Vin and Lawson's letting him and Hawkes and Vin spread out along the rock line to see if they could pick up anything.

Spreading the map out on a rock, Chris felt Buck behind him. "Need to ride more often," Buck said rubbing the back of his thighs.

"Better hope we find a hot spring if you're already sore," Chris said.

"I'll settle for finding our fugitives," Buck said, looking over the maps. "This is a hell of a lot of country to cover."

"I don't planning on covering it all," Chris said, using a grease pencil to mark where they were and glancing out to the side of the map. "Other end of the construction site is there," he pointed to where an area was circled. . But damn if they don't look to be heading due north," he said, looking up as if he could see something.

"Got it!" Lawson called out and Chris packed up, leading the horses forward, Vin already in the lead. "They've slowed a bit, but still steady. Looks like one of 'em took a tumble," he said, leading Chris to a steep step down where the humus had been disturbed by a sliding body.

"There anything up that way?" Chris asked.

Lawson mounted and shook his head. "Not much. Mines mostly, none of 'em too deep. Area's full of them -- half dug out this state when they hit gold last century. You might find a trapper cabin or some such, folks building blinds and smaller shelters. Some logging roads, or just dirt tracks people put in year to year. None of it mapped out entirely and it can vanish from one season to the next.”

Vin was doing more walking than riding and Chris watched him carefully. The Henley was sweat soaked at his back and neck, the ATF jacket abandoned to the horse's rump. Chris kept checking his arm but no tell tale dark stains appeared and he bit back the urge to make Vin stop and rest.

"You grind those teeth together any harder and you're gonna need new ones," Buck said quietly. Chris shifted his gaze. He hadn't noticed Buck ride up or Hawkes drop back. "He's all right, Chris."

"He doesn't know when to quit," Chris growled.

"Gee, now who does that remind me of?" Buck said. "He's a big boy. Between he and Lawson, we may actually get somewhere on this."

"You got something to say, Buck, or are you just bored?"

Buck didn't flinch at the snapping tone and he didn't back off. "You're gonna burn holes in his back. He's upright and he's breathing and you need to let go a little bit, my friend."

Chris said nothing, not wanting to have this conversation with Buck. Not here, not now and not ever. "We're on the job, Buck. I'm not talking about my personal life."

"Hate to break it to you pard, but neither am I," Buck said and held Chris gaze for a long moment before a grin broke out on Buck's face. "Boy, you are wired tight." He shook his head and watched the two trackers as they moved, side by side, Chris following his gaze. Lawson had on an old Stetson that had seen better days, Vin's cap set backwards on his head as they walked and searched. Vin mounted up again to investigate something further along and Buck shifted his gaze back to Chris.

Chris made a conscious effort to relax. He was wired tight and not only about Vin. Most of it, he knew, came from not really being able to do anything himself. The hardest part of his job was not riding herd on his Team, no matter how often or loudly he proclaimed it. The hardest part was the waiting, the dealing with the details of procedure and process so that the rest of his Team could do what they did best. And it was hard to hold them back when he himself often wanted to just push through whatever snag or roadblock presented itself.

They finally started climbing again and Chris was glad to see Vin remount and let the horse do the work. He set the horse on a trot along the ridge, picking up the trail again, Lawson finding it first, but they didn’t push on, waiting for the others to pick up and cresting the rise, Chris could see why.

There was no way to know if the avalanche that had swept through here was a year old or older, but the signs were there that it was a fairly recent spill: a veritable river of small rocks and broken branches and treacherous footing cut between two rises. The path itself dauntingly steep and nearly a hundred yards across. Vin stepped out carefully, holding steady when small rocks and loose dirt slid downhill even from the very edge. They dismounted, all of them watching and Hawkes the closest other person to Vin as he sweet talked his horse into stepping onto the slide wake.

Ten feet in and Vin stopped, looking up the slope and pulling his rifle again to use the scope. “No place easier that I can see,” he said. “But it’s the small stuff that’s loose.”

“Chances are they went straight across,” Lawson said. “We’ll have to walk it too. Go slow or we’ll end up breaking the leg of one of these animals,” he warned.

It took them nearly a half hour, the horses showed more sense than their handlers and resisted being led across ground that shifted and moved under their feet. Vin got his horse across, then tied the animal to a low shrub and headed back to help Winston with the pack horse. The skittering of rocks against each other made for the only sound Chris could hear other than Vin talking softly to the pack animal. It was a lot like wading through shallow water with a strong current, and they had to angle back and forth a bit to keep from triggering a minor rockslide or something worse.

Lawson was quick to pick up the trail again, but Chris called a break, eyeing the down slope. Even he could see where their prey had slid against rock and dirt, no longer masking their trail. Henny had packed coffee in thermoses and sandwiches and fruit. There was other food, wrapped and labeled: an easy dinner and breakfast.

Perched on a rock, Vin had binoculars out as he sipped at a bottle of water and Chris eased down beside him, resisting the temptation to pull the sweat dampened curls off the other man’s neck. “Fast as they are going now, I’m thinking we might be getting close,” he said.

“Yeah, but close to what?” Buck asked putting his hand out and Vin handed over the binoculars.

“Rendezvous maybe,” Chris said, eyes narrowed as he searched the landscape, then pulled out the maps again, checking the area map against the topographical one JD had provided and the known mines marked in the area that Collins had given them along with the DOT planning maps. “Lawson says there are shallow mines all through this area, but could be old logging roads as well. DOT maps only show us what’s out there in relation to where the road is going.”

“Great place to disappear into if that’s what you want,” Vin said.

“We going to keep going?” Jay Winston. He had his radio out, tanned face looking as weary as Chris was starting to feel. “We’re about ten miles out.”

“For awhile. I’d like to have a sheltered rise when we have to stop for the night,” Chris said and looked back down at his map, marking coordinates and giving them to Winston to call in. Even at the height they were at, Winston had to climb a little more to get a clear signal. A few minutes later he called to Chris. “Got one of your fellas trying to patch through,” he said as Chris climbed up to join him.

“Base, this is Larabee,” Chris said, well aware that both Buck and Vin had climbed up after him.

“McMillan, North Seven. We’ve been trying to reach you. Standish checked in. They found the missing man’s car – that Mark Todd. Looks to be abandoned, off 14 headed toward Livermore. Standish and Sanchez are working with the Ft. Collins PD to see what they can find out. On this end, the lab hasn’t got anything yet except dirt, although we found some paper scraps in one of the cases. Could be packing material, but we’re checking. We still have a handful of nothing.”

“Shit,” Chris said softly. “All right. Look, we’re going to keep going until dark, see if we pick up anything. It would be dusk before we could get back anyway. We’ll try to stay high when we camp. We’ll check in tonight.”

“We’ll keep someone monitoring. Every hour until dark. Then every two?”

“Good enough. North Seven, out,” Chris said. “Chasing ghosts,” he said. “Feel like we’re chasing our tails.”

“They still have to be going somewhere,” Buck said easily.

“I know that,” Chris said a little irritably. “And I want to know where, but we’re flying blind, Buck. And we’re exposed. But we don’t to who or why."

"We'll figure it out, Chris," Buck said, no trace of humor in his voice. "You're pretty jumpy on this. You runnin' a hunch you aren't sharing?"

Chris took the question seriously, glancing over at where Hawkes, Lawson and Winston were taking advantage of the break. "Not a hunch, no," he said quietly, so only Vin and Buck could hear. "But we've got four guys -- at least -- crossing this country in a mighty big hurry, on foot and carrying God knows what. Anybody else thinking we're up against a deadline?"

"Which means they might be a tad desperate," Vin said, scanning the tree line. "Which we kind a knew." He fingered the stock on the rifle across his lap. "We've only got a few more hours of daylight left."

Buck picked up Chris' maps and studied the line he'd been tracking. "There has to be something there. A road, a hidey-hole. One of those mines maybe. They aren't headed toward the construction or really toward the park."

"Nope. Just someplace in between," Chris said. "Lawson," he called out getting to his feet. The tracker got up as well, meeting Chris halfway. Chris held out the map. "Have you got any idea what they could be headed for along this line?" he asked.

Lawson chewed on his lip for a moment, studying the map, then shook his head slowly. "I don't, Agent Larabee. Could be a mine...they keep going long enough and they'll hit the down southern edge of the park and there's some roads there but no buildings or such. Campgrounds, couple of creeks. On foot though, it would take them a couple of days maybe, across this. Maybe less if they could keep up the pace. But it doesn't look like they are packing supplies either. They could find water, but if I had to guess -- I'd say they had planned to make it where ever they were trying to get to before dark...which means no more than five or six hours by foot."

"So, we'd be close," Chris said, looking around again and trying to make allowances for the fact that they'd been stopping and starting.

Lawson nodded. "Fair to it."

"Chris," Vin was close to his elbow. "Let Hawkes and I play scout for a bit. Give us...thirty minutes to head out along this line and see what we find."

"You sure it was me that got whacked in the head?" Chris asked, annoyed at Vin and at the same time tempted.

"We can keep tracking -- but it's going to take us longer," Vin said, taking on the reasonable argument and Chris knew it, but he and Hawkes would be out of sight and difficult to raise on radio if they found trouble.

Chris hesitated, his own reluctance and indecision making him more irritable and any other time he might have been able to take a step back but they were running out of daylight. "Then I guess we'd better get tracking."

Vin gave him a look usually reserved for idiots but he shouldered his rifle and took the lead on his horse again, without further comment.

Buck didn't have anything to say either and Chris almost wished his old friend would say something or give him a look that was easier to interpret. He didn't though, only helped Hawkes and Winston get the few things they'd unpack packed up again.

Lawson hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I'm not here to do anything but find a trail, Agent Larabee--"

"Just Chris...seems a bit silly to be agenting this and that," Chris said as he gathered up the reins to his mount.

Lawson gave him a quick smile. "Awright, then. But I think you had the right of it. These fellas, they know where they're headed and they are taking the shortest distance. Land is gonna start dropping soon, then climb as they make it back up toward the park. It'd be easy to miss something, but, if we push...just a bit, most we're gonna lose is a few hours of daylight...and if we can't pick up the trail...well, backtracking is part of what I do too," he said.

Put like that, Chris could almost taste the bitterness of being put in his place. Maybe Buck and Vin should take lessons from Lawson.

There had been a time when neither of them would have needed that kind of lesson. In truth, thinking on it, he was a little surprised Vin hadn't done what he wanted anyway while letting Buck work his way around Chris' objections.

Neither had and that bothered him more than the idea of Vin scouting ahead.

"Hawkes know this area?"

"As well as anybody," Lawson said. "Ain't anyone I know who could you lead you straight and true anywhere in here."

"Vin!" Chris called out and Vin stopped and looked back, a question on his face. "Hold up. Buck, you and Winston and Lawson keep on the trail. Hawkes and Vin and I are going to take a little ride ahead."

"Oh really?" Buck said, feigning surprise. "A little advance scouting?"

"Shut up, Wilmington," Chris hissed but there was little heat. "Or I'll call in and have them tow that monstrosity of a boat away for scrap. And say you stole it."

Buck only grinned at him. "How far and how long?"

"Thirty minutes out and back...I'll call at the mark."

"We'll try to stay high," Buck said.

"Hawkes...." Chris said but the trooper was already mounted. Chris only shook his head and mounted as well. Any minute now he was going to blast them all to hell and back for putting up with his bullshit -- right after he figured out why he had put them through it first.

And why Vin and Buck had let him, although he had a few ideas.

Vin didn't even look surprised though the look Chris got from him was only slightly warmer than ice. It might have been different had Hawkes not been along, but Chris was already figuring he was going to get an earful at some point -- and he had to admit to knowing that Vin hadn't challenged him precisely for the same reason. Had it been only Buck, Chris probably wouldn't be trying to come up with creative ways to eat crow right now.

He'd deserve it though -- when it came time.

They still couldn't ride full out, but between the maps and Hawkes and Vin they managed a pretty good pace, the ground dropping away gradually then more steeply, then rising in a series of sharp cuts and drops meaning they had to dismount and climb a bit. It would have been easier to work their way along the ridge but they were still following that invisible line.

The tension Chris had been feeling eased off a bit as they rode, eyes alert to what signs they still could see and there was a trail of sorts, Vin checking and moving on, sparing Chris only a single worried glance before returning his attention to the trail.

Nudging his horse forward, Chris came abreast of him, Hawkes trailing a few paces behind. "I'll let you kick my ass later," he said quietly.

Vin eyed him, blue eyes revealing nothing but Chris could almost feel the tension slide from Vin as well. "Does it need kicking?"

"Apparently so."

A soft sigh escaped the other man, Vin shaking his head slightly. "Holding too tight, Larabee. You want to tell me why?"

"Yeah, but not here," Chris said, glancing back at Hawkes. "If you want me to say I was wrong, I will."

Vin gave him a crooked smile. "I think you just did, partner," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere, Chris. Not if I can help it."

It was the conversation Chris wanted to have but the timing was still wrong. On the job, they had to be able to cut this off -- only it wasn't Vin who had the problem. Chris gave half a thought to questioning how deeply Vin's feelings ran and then mentally kicked himself for doubting it for even a moment. Beside him Vin was silent, not really looking at him or even at the trail but something indefinably cool slipped between them and Chris shivered even with the warm air.

"You have to call it, Chris," Vin said, answering something Chris hadn't vocalized but was there nonetheless. "I'm not asking you to choose but you do have to make a choice," he said and looked up. Whatever momentary doubts Chris might have had or maybe had even manufactured as an excuse were shattered by what he saw on Vin's face.

One unguarded moment of hope and fear and even resignation, maybe. He wasn't sure what Vin intended by letting him see so much but he felt his chest tighten, his stomach felt hollow and aching.

Too much fear and he wouldn't make the same mistake again, wouldn't let that fear take him into anger. Chris shook his head and Vin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I keep my promises, Larabee," he said and tapped his horse's sides, urging it to a trot.

Chris didn't follow. He didn't stop either, struggling to get his emotions under control, to regain some kind of equilibrium. If he had any sense, he would call it and turn them back, let McMillan's team take over because he wasn't thinking straight and he wasn't keeping his attention on what they were doing and why. A dangerous combination even when they had more information than they had now.

It took him another ten minutes to finally manage to get his mind on the job, to notice that Hawkes was closer and Vin had slowed enough to be able to keep an eye on both Chris and the invisible line north they had been following. Taking a deep breath Chris picked up the pace. "Let's find what we're looking for," he said to Vin and got a half smile before Vin waved Hawkes up to join them.

The terrain became less rugged, the rises and falls evening out a bit, enough for them to pick up some speed and Chris checked his watch, looking around for a likely rise to get him clearer reception.

Vin was still leading when they were close to the time mark. He suddenly stopped and backed his horse a few feet, dismounting and dropping quickly and tensely. He tied his horse off and Chris and Hawkes did the same, creeping up to join him.

Even before he reached Vin Chris could hear it -- the low thrum of motors, echoing softly and sounding muffled. "Think we've reached the Emerald City, Dorothy," Vin whispered as Chris crept up to lay beside him on the rock.

The ridge dropped away sharply below them, then rose again, an almost perfect 'V' of stone, narrow and steep, and boxed in on one end, east of them, the canyon totally obscured by rock and trees. To the west, though it shallowed out and Chris could see truck tracks.

There were a half dozen men loading 4x4 long beds, disappearing beneath the foliage obscuring the box end of the canyon. The boxes were of varied size, long and small, some of the longer ones bearing stamped identifiers in languages Chris recognized but couldn't translate -- not that he needed too.

Well, they'd started out looking for guns and it looked like they'd found them -- more than they had expected -- and Chris doubted seriously if they were collector's items. At least not for antiquarians. The men below -- and Chris counted eight at first glance including the man who had driven the bulldozer : Vin's Willie Nelson clone -- were all moving quickly, shutting down an operation

"Is that Russian?" Hawkes asked softly as the three of them pulled back from the edge

"Among others," Chris murmured. He looked at Vin and caught the blue eyes locked with his. More than they anticipated. They were in over their heads and once more outmanned and outgunned. He wasn't taking a chance at seeing Vin buried again -- or himself. "Let's see if we can find a way in and then call in the troops," he said and eased his side arm out, checking it carefully.

"I'll go," Hawkes said, already moving down the slope.

Chris grabbed his arm. "Keep it low. We want access. I do not want to explain to your boss how I lost one of his troopers."

Hawkes nodded and headed back to his mount, pulling his rifle then moved west, silently as a cat. Vin pulled two magazines out of his pack and jammed them in his jeans pockets before he and Chris followed, but kept higher, Chris watching Hawkes and Vin watching the activity below as much as he could.

"Chris..." Vin's call was barely a whisper, Chris moving up to see what Vin saw and he swore softly.

Another truck had pulled up, the driver getting out with quick economical moves and no one below seemed surprised to see him.

Chris was. "Son of a bitch," he said watching Commander Matt Collins disappear beneath the obscuring foliage. He thought his heart would stop. He tugged on Vin's sleeve and his partner scooted down with no objection, Vin's face paler than after he'd been shot.

"Let's get Hawkes and get the hell out of here," Vin said.

"He's got to know we are close. They'd have kept him informed every inch of the way," Chris said, and both he and Vin searched around them, Vin easing the safety off his rifle. "Come on..." he said and headed down the slope after Hawkes, then stopped, the coldness he'd felt earlier solidifying into hard ice. "He wouldn't risk showing up here himself unless--"

"He already knew we were here," Vin whispered and searched around him, looking for the eyes he knew had to be watching them.

"We've got to get word back," Chris said, eyeing the terrain, the rise behind them. "Need height," he said and started for the top, already pulling the radio out and trying for a signal.

"God damn it, Chris!" Vin hissed and followed him.

The first shot came high, trying to keep Chris from reaching the top of the rise. He ducked and kept going, watching Vin try to back track the trajectory blindly, pushing the gun to automatic. "Seven North to Base!" he snapped and got only static, and crouched low when return fire exploded around both of them.

"Climb!" Vin snarled at him and flung himself in between two large up thrusts of rock, laying down cover fire in a 180 degree arc and watching for the return.

Vin wouldn't be able to keep their heads down for long with three magazines and the animals were behind them now. He counted as he climbed, ignoring splinters of rock that scored his hands and face. He heard one male voice cry behind him -- not close enough to be Vin -- and reached the top, finally getting a signal and threw himself behind the spare protection of a cedar.

"Base, go ahead! Larabee is that weapons fire?" McMillan said.

"Found 'em, about fifteen miles in...almost due north, last coordinates..." He had to hunt for the map, ducking again and listing to the staccato return from Vin. They didn't have time for help to hunt for them. "40 degrees 35' minutes North 105 degree 15' West," Chris said.

"I got it, Chris--" McMillan said. "Choppers are up. Hang on..."

"Richard, listen to me! Collins is in--" Chris tried to interrupt him, cursing the need for McMillan to release before Chris could transmit. Then he couldn't finish, pain ripping through him in a flash of searing heat, choking him. His body contracted automatically and he lost his grip on the radio. He caught it up again, struggling with it, feeling warmth along his belly and back.

He heard Vin call him and heard McMillan as well, both of them calling his name, in between gunshots and his own heartbeat. It sounded too loud, his breathing sounded too harsh. He heard Vin again, screaming for him which was odd because Vin never screamed -- he was quiet and steady and even when he was scared he never screamed. And he kept his promises.

Chris tried to keep his too and was oddly saddened by the fact that he hadn't kept this one and that Vin would never know it had been made.

~end part three~ 

 

Part Four

There was such a thing as being too cautious. Vin knew Chris Larabee knew that as well as anyone -- a point where caution and fear became not just tools for survival but a paralyzing threat of their own and sometimes, that paralysis could be contagious. It could be strong enough to strangle anyone close enough.

Vin felt it tighten around them as they rode, as he did what he knew how to do, what they had to do. Chris' fear and his anger beat against him like the powerful dispersal of air beneath a helicopter's blades. Sucked at him like a riptide.

The smart thing would be to let go. To sever that link before it knocked him off his feet or sucked him under. Vin had a lifetime's practice of letting go.

He also knew that there were times when being able to hang on just a little longer could make all the difference. When it was the only thing you could do.

He couldn't even be angry at Chris over this and God knew he'd tried. If it had just been Chris' pride or his arrogance, anger might have been the best answer, the only answer. Every now and then Chris Larabee needed his sails deflated a little and his ass kicked firmly. But Vin wasn't one to kick a man when he was down unless he really deserved it.

Chris didn't deserve this. Vin wished he had some way, something that could ease this for him, take that fear away, replace it with promises. He could make those promises -- maybe for the first time in his life he could make that kind of promise and really mean it. Only Chris wouldn't believe it. He didn't believe in promises or ever after and most certainly not in forever. A man only got that kind of certainty once in his life and Chris' certainty had been ripped from him in the most brutal and final fashion Vin could imagine years before Vin had met him.

And then Vin had up and died on him. Only for a minute or so but it had been enough. Chris was keeping his control in place for the most part. You had to know what to look for to tell any different and Buck knew what to look for. So did Vin.

He was a little surprised that Lawson had picked up on it as well. Then again, the man was paid to read signs and read them accurately. He didn't need to know why the signs were laid out the way they were to follow them. And Lawson was too old and had seen too much to be intimidated by the likes of Chris Larabee -- and too good at what he did to not be able to see through the brittle exterior and see the man beneath.

Vin really wished Lawson and his grandfather could have met. They'd have gotten on like a house afire. Gotten along far better than Vin and the old man ever had, although he guessed that was a little unfair. He'd gotten on all right with his mother's father. There might even been love in there somewhere, but most of what he'd gotten from his grandfather was some respect. Given some too. Learned a lot about tracking and hunting and shooting and animals and making do with what you had. He might have learned more, had the old man lived longer. Maybe learned more about the old man and his own mother, if only he'd known what to ask, if he had known that the time he would have with Earl Tanner would be almost as limited as the time he'd had with his mother.

There was an old ranch in Texas, off a long, dusty back road that had Vin's name on it now. Wasn't much to it any longer: the house, the well, the land. The rest had been gone -- stolen or just gone long before he'd found out he'd been left a legacy. He'd found out just after he joined the army. Had managed to get out there after basic training, just to see. Long enough to decide to keep it. Find someone to look after it for him, rent out the house if they could. Every now and then he'd get a little income off the place but for never more than a few months and barely enough to pay the taxes on the property. The place was too far out, too wild and far away from "civilization".

He'd stayed there himself when he was bounty hunting, on and off, spent some time and some money repairing and fixing it up. It was a good place to go when the winters in Denver got too cold. It was a good place to go when he needed to lick his wounds. It was a good place to go just to think.

The meteorologists were predicting a particularly harsh winter for Colorado and instead of doing the smart thing and letting go, Vin was halfway to asking Chris what he thought about two weeks in the back waters of Texas come December.

When this was over. When this was done. When they found what they were looking for.

It was a relief to be riding straight. Vin would have bet his second best rifle that the trail they were following wouldn't veer off. It wasn't as much a hunch as instinct. They were against a clock, a timer that they had no idea how many minutes were left to count off.

And it was instinct that made him slow as they started climbing again. Nothing overt. No cessation of birdsong or insects. He didn't even hear the motors until he was practically on top of them. The canyon locked in the sound, the high sides and heavy foliage blocking it from view.

He eased up on the ridge, laying flat against the stone and looked, tension crawling into his belly at what he saw.

It was a damn sight more than four guys and a truck. He glanced back and caught Chris' eye, beckoning him and Hawkes up carefully. "Think we've reached the Emerald City, Dorothy," he murmured to Chris when he felt the man's shoulder press against his.

"Is that Russian?" Hawkes asked and Vin counted not only Russian markings on the crates but Italian and French...not to mention the good old US of A. It was a fucking arsenal which made him even more nervous trying to figure out what had been taken from the transport truck. Slipping back down the rock a bit, Vin checked his weapon, pushing the release over to automatic.

"Among others," Chris murmured and Vin took a breath, willing himself to calm and almost losing it when he met Chris' eyes. There was a haunted almost hunted look in his eyes, his mouth a tight thin line. Chris' eyes flicked to Vin's gun and he pulled his own. "Let's see if we can find a way in and then call in the troops."

Then Hawkes was moving and Vin rechecked the target, tensing when he saw another truck pull in, battered and dusty, obviously used for rough terrain, high rigged. The man who emerged was tall and lean but not until he pulled his sunglasses off did Vin recognize the chiseled profile. His mouth went dry, the implications of Matt Collins' presence here and now sinking in like lead in his stomach. "Chris..." he whispered, trying to still the pounding of his heart. The son of a bitch had set them up...and God help them if Hawkes and Winston were in on it.

"Fuck me raw," Chris hissed out softly. "That son of a bitch," he murmured and then pulled at Vin's sleeve, both of them backing down the rock. Chris's face was bloodless, the green eyes the only color Vin could see.

"Let's get Hawkes and get the hell out of here," Vin said, swallowing and once more following his instincts. He hadn't spent as much time with Winston but he had with Hawkes...and it was ridiculous to think the entire division of State Troopers was in on this. He prayed he was right about Hawkes. His eyes sought the tree line, wondering if he would even be able to spot anyone in this kind of underbrush even with the scope. The operation below looked to be fairly large and it was moving.

Chris was moving too, down slope, after Hawkes when he stopped, the hand that tightened on Vin's forearm was cold. "He wouldn't risk showing up here himself unless--"

"He already knew we were here," Vin whispered and searched around him again. He barely heard Chris before the other man was moving, pulling out the radio as he started climbing back the way they'd come, the static from the radio jerking Vin out of the shock he'd fallen into. "God damn it, Chris!" he backed Chris up, desperately searching, trying to spot anyone and knowing they were too open. His brain went into automatic, cataloguing cover, angles for shooting. He doubted seriously that anyone was actually in the trees -- they'd need rigs to get into the high cedars. But there were plenty of rocks and rises higher than the one they were climbing.

Vin heard the whine and snap, the sharp concussion as a bullet hit rock. West of them, toward where Hawkes had headed and he returned fire, angling for the protection of a set of sheared boulders. Chris was almost to the top and there were trees and more rocks if Chris could get to them. He had to pray that no one had gotten behind them as he shouted at Chris. "Climb!" Just warning enough before Vin cut loose, expending half a magazine in a single pull and then watching for returns. He caught one, squeezing off a single shot, listening to Chris' voice. Two higher and he heard one target go down as he fired again, glancing to see the horses pulling free, scared by the noise and gauging his chances of making it to his mount to get the other reloads. He scrunched down as single shots came back. At least five and he glanced back seeing Chris at the top behind a hardwood, the narrow trunk barely covering him...

Not covering him. He could see Chris' hand, out and bloody, fingers weakly scrabbling for the radio.

"Chris!" he screamed and fired the rest of the magazine, popping it and slamming in another. "Chris! Larabee answer me, you son of a bitch!" he screamed again and cut loose another half round.

The only answer he got was rifle fire.

He twisted himself around, staring upward. Ten feet. It may as well have been ten miles. He could see the dark stain now, at Chris' back, Chris laxly still.

"Vin!" Not Chris but Buck and Vin twisted again.

"Buck...Chris is down. Behind me and up."

"Can you cover me?"

Vin took a breath, willing himself to calm again. He could but then he'd be empty. "Not if you want me to do it more than once."

He heard Buck swear. More shots and Vin was watching this time. "Fuck you," he said softly, picking his target and heard the cry and clatter of a gun to the rocks.

"Vin, incoming," Buck said and Vin looked up. Buck was at the top of the ridge, near the horses, totally and foolishly exposed and Vin saw the slim pack hurtling his way just before there were more shots and Buck dropped flat.

His side burned as he lunged for the ammo case, snagging the edge and dropped again. "Five seconds, Buck."

"I'm bringing him to you. Ain't no better cover up here."

And Vin's cover was tenuous at best but it gave him two sides of protection. He pulled the near spent clip out and slammed in another, jammed one in the waistband of his jeans and dumping the rest at his feet. "Buck!"

Vin stood, remembering a thousand certification and practice targets, running targets, maximum coverage, minimum expenditure of ammo. Twenty rounds to let Buck get to Chris. Drop six...five...four...eject and reload...three...two...one and pray Buck had Chris and could make the ten feet in less than fifteen seconds.

He'd be deaf before this was over.

There was barely room for all three of them and Vin had no time to even look at Chris as he reached for another magazine and slammed it home. "How bad?" he had to wipe his palms on his jeans, the stock becoming slick with sweat from his hands.

"Bad enough," Buck said and Vin could hear the worry and the fear. "Back to front. Shit... North Seven to Base."

He'd gotten the radio too and Vin didn't even want to know how he'd managed that, daring a glance down. "Oh Christ," Vin said softly. Buck had one hand pressed to the exit wound on Chris' left hip, where most of the blood was coming from. It had already soaked his shirt and his jeans. Chris was pale, a laceration on one cheek from rock splinters.

"Base. We've got choppers up. Larabee gave us the coordinates What's your situation?"

"Agent down, Base. Need an ETA. MedEvac with a rig. They aren't going to be able to land."

"Fifteen minutes, North. You should hear them soon. Hang on."

There had been no shots for a few moments and Vin crouched down, pulling the bandana from his neck and wadding it up. "Where are Winston and Lawson?" Vin asked. "I'm gonna get more pressure on that."

"Back a bit and I told them to park it. Winston's got nothing but that damn scattergun. Here." He handed Vin a handkerchief and Vin made a second pad. Buck exchanged the radio for his SIG.

Vin swallowed, knowing the need for haste. He pulled the snap on Chris' jeans and the zipper, fingers already slick with blood, fingers skating gently along the exposed skin of Chris' belly and groin as he sought the wound. Chris jerked at his touch, eyes opening and he sucked air, arching from the pain. Vin pressed down on his shoulder. "Easy, Chris" Vin said and pushed the folded bandana under the denim and under Buck's hand.

"Coulda picked a more ...romantic spot for this, Vin..." Chris rasped out then hissed as Buck pressed down again, while Vin re-secured his jeans, the tight denim holding the pad in place.

"I'll make it up to you, cowboy," Vin said, with a faint smile. He eased up on Chris' shoulder and brushed the gold-blond hair away from Chris' face. "You know what those tight jeans do to me." He glanced over, looking for movement and met Buck's eyes. They weren't being fired on and while any other time it would be a relief, right now Vin couldn't think it was anything but a bad thing. He leaned over Chris and gripped his thigh to ease him on his side. The entry wound was smaller. "Buck," he said and Buck nodded. Vin picked up his rifle again and tried to ignore the grunts of pain Chris made while Buck worked the handkerchief over the wound at Chris' back.

"Where are those fucking choppers?" Buck said, hands still held over the wounds.

Vin didn't have an answer. He pressed his back to the rock and wiped his eyes. Chris was panting through the pain and Vin touched him briefly, along his cheek, eyes still sweeping the area.

"Buck!" A voice above them and Vin whipped around. He spotted Winston above them, on his belly, rifle held crossways in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing!" Buck snapped. "Calvary is on the way."

"Well, no...they aren't," Winston said. "Coordinates are a bit off...." he backed away. Vin felt a trickle of sweat between his shoulder blades and his finger tightened on the trigger, aiming up but the next face he saw was Carl Lawson's; the man looking angry and disgusted and a little afraid of the shotgun resting under his jaw. "They should be about twenty miles east. Longitudes and Latitudes were never strong suits with me."

Vin couldn't get a shot without hitting Lawson.

"Agent Tanner. Agent Wilmington...Agent Larabee, if you are still alive..." The voice was familiar and Vin didn't move. All Winston had to give him was two inches left or right.

"What do you want Collins? Twenty miles or not...they'll find us. And you," Vin said, never moving and only caught Buck's widened gaze out of his peripheral vision.

"In an hour or so, and we'll be gone. Put the gun down Mr. Tanner, or all they'll find is bodies," Collins said from someplace to Vin's left and behind him. "I'd rather not start with Mr. Lawson."

"Vin..." Buck said.

"They'll kill us anyway," Vin said softly.

"Yeah, but ...time, Vin."

Vin didn't move. He could make the shot if he went through Lawson to do it. But he didn't have any way to keep Collins or the others off them.

"Mr. Tanner..."

"Vin..." Chris' voice was weak but it got through the hum in his ears, the pounding in his chest. "Alive is better...but he can't risk it."

"Mr. Tanner. I have a relatively good marksman on you...close enough. Not in your class, but close enough."

"Vin..." Buck's voice was harsh, eyes riveted to a spot on Vin's shoulder, a single pinprick of red.

Vin dropped and the shot went into the stone, Vin covering Chris' face from the stone splinters. Chris looked up at him and lifted a hand to close around Vin's forearm. The touch left a dark smear on his skin. "Buy time. Stay put," he said, voice still weak but there was a thread of steel beneath it. "McMillan knows we are in trouble."

"They don't know where," Vin said. He wanted to make a stand but he knew the odds. Lawson would end up dead, Hawkes might already be if he wasn't part of this, and he had only a hundred rounds left before they'd be forced to move to handguns. And Chris was going to bleed to death in front of him. He looked up at Buck, saw the older man was as torn as he was.

Buck reached for the radio and buckshot scattered against the stone from above, Vin grabbed his rifle again and Buck pulled his gun up, their backs to each other with Chris between them.

He heard Collins curse and movement but couldn't get any higher with that laser sight dancing on the stone above them.

"Do you want to know what was on the truck, Mr. Wilmington?" Collins called out and Vin heard something drop with a dull thump near them on Buck's side. Buck swore and he twisted. A small block of white, wires trailing from it. "It was C-4. We have some covering up to do. We can start here," he said. "You have five seconds."

Winston had pulled back, they all were and Vin stared at the block, then at Buck, the other man's normally ruddily tanned complexion paler. "We're coming out," Buck called, the explosives in front of them making the decision none of them would have.

"Buck!" Vin hissed. "If they blow it McMillan will know where we are."

"But he won't find anything but pieces, Vin," Buck said softly and raised his hand, gun held loosely. He got up slowly, Vin clutched his rifle but no shots came. Buck tossed the handgun and turned. Vin couldn't see what he saw but he saw Buck's jaw tighten.

"The rifle, Mr. Tanner, or I will drop him where he stands."

Vin shook his head and then swore softly, pulled the clip and tossed the M-21 out before standing up, body tensed for the bullet he knew was coming.

It didn't. Around them, from the ridge and below along the wash, others stood, approaching cautiously. Vin caught sight of Hawkes, barely able to stand, a gun to his head, blood staining his pants leg, apology on his face.

Collins looked coolly relieved and even smiled a little. "Jay, cut those horses loose and bring Carl down. Mr. Wilmington, Mr. Tanner, I'm going to ask you to carry Mr. Larrabee. I really don't want a random flyby to see bodies up here just yet."

His words sent a chill through Vin but he squatted, he and Buck getting Chris to sitting and their arms around him to lift. Vin wasn't actually sure he could do it. Adrenaline had left him wired but he was exhausted or close to it. Chris' arm came around his shoulder and very briefly he felt fingers stroke against the nape of his neck and his throat.

Chris was unconscious again by the time they made it down the wash and around to the ravine. Two of the loaded trucks were gone and on hitting the ravine Vin was able to see what he had not been able to from above. A cave entrance, but this was no abandoned mine from the century before. Oh, it might have started out as that but someone had been busy and had spent some money. Hanging lamps were strung along the roof of the cave, wiring hung loosely between each fixture, the air cool and damp and Vin swallowed as they were escorted deeper inside. Collins stepped aside for a moment, to speak to someone Vin only caught a glimpse of at first. Tall man, blonde hair pulled back in a neat pony tail, body and stance familiar and he glanced up, catching Vin's gaze and smiling, cold and welcome, and Vin felt cold wash over him, swearing softly before they were forced to move again

Anthony Hartman, once a driver if not more to Chen Juarez. A face like stone and no mercy, so like his former employer and maybe more dangerous for that. Anthony Hartman looked unconcerned and Vin knew that they wouldn't get out of here alive, no matter what Collins said or thought. The scars on his back burned from the sweat irritating them and then they were nudged forward and Vin had to grip Chris tighter to keep from lashing out at their guards anyway.

They passed a larger opening and it was Buck's turn to swear softly. Rack after rack filled the cavern, about half of them empty but there were crates still waiting to be moved.

"A few more days and we'd have had this all cleared," Collins said softly, following Buck's gaze. "You've moved our timetable up a bit. Cost us some money."

"Commander...why?" Hawkes asked and Vin tried not to hear the pain in that voice, shifting to get a better grip on Chris' lax body. That tone of betrayal cut through Vin like a razor.

"Twenty-eight years, Cody. Twenty as a division commander and they are redistricting. And I'm out. Two years more..." Collins' voice was flat and hard and cold and Vin could only stare at the man. There was more to it than Collins losing his posting, his seniority, the thirty-year mark. Collins caught him staring and only smiled a little, like Vin was a child who didn't understand anything.

"Because he's a greedy, weak, bastard, Cody," Buck said.

"Good thing your opinion doesn't matter much to me, isn't it, Wilmington?" Collins said. The nudge of rifle barrel at Buck's back got them moving again.

Vin tried to keep track of where they were, deeper into the mine, the new modifications giving way to older structures of wood and iron. A newer door loomed on their right and one of them men hurried ahead to open it, the lines running out and the hum of machinery clueing Vin in before they entered. A diesel generator and air pump, both only a few years old. Pipes ran overhead as they were nudged inside. They faced four men with loaded guns, Vin and Buck stood still holding Chris while Hawkes and Lawson were bound, ropes around their wrists and then handcuffs wrapped through those to be secured on the pipe above. Hawkes bit back a groan as weight was placed on his leg, the pipes just high enough to force him up on his toes.

"Set him down and back away," Collins said, his own service revolver pointed unerringly at Chris' head. He couldn't miss this close and carefully, Buck and Vin eased Chris down to the rock floor and backed up. "I give your man at base an hour before he finds this place," Collins said as a man knelt to bind Chris' wrists as Hawkes and Lawson's had been. It took two of them to lift Chris up so he could be hung up as well.

Vin started forward as fresh blood stained Chris' shirt. "Just leave him on the floor," he said flatly.

"Only if he's dead, Mr. Tanner. Your choice," Collins said and Vin felt Buck's big hand close over his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Vin gave half a thought to resisting when they came for him, but he remained still, watching blood hit the stone under Chris' feet. Like Hawkes, he wasn't quite tall enough to be able to stand flat footed when his arms were pulled high. His shoulder burned and his side, the forgotten graze reminding him it was there. Buck was next, able to stand, next to Vin, closest to the generator.

The men backed away, Collins last, eyeing them all. "An hour or so. My apologies to your wife, Cody."

"Fuck you," Cody hissed softly and Collins nodded.

"I have been. Royally."

The door closed and Vin closed his eyes, trying to ignore the smallness of the room. "Buck," he said, needing a push and finding just enough leverage under his toes. "Get closer. Knife in my boot."

"Good thing to have but I can't quite reach it," Buck said.

"Shut up," Vin said, dropping his weight, feeling give in the ropes but not in the cuffs. He looked up, stretched down as far as he could and pushed, almost jumping until he could grip the slim pipe they were cuffed to. "I'm not going to be able to hold this long," he said and pulled himself up, afraid his shoulder would give as he flexed his hips and bent almost double to get the toes of his boots hooked around the pipe as well. It creaked and Vin had a brief moment of panic, afraid it would give way with all this weight on it -- but they could get loose. It didn't and Buck shifted closer, seeing what Vin was doing.

"Jesus, Vin. Bet you were hell in gym class," Buck said and Vin could feel the other man's hand at his ankle, reminded himself to breathe. He wanted to tell Buck to hurry but he didn't dare and if Buck dropped the damn blade they were all dead.

He was going to fall. He could feel blood dripping down his arm, spatters of red joining Chris' on the floor.

Sometimes hanging on a little longer was all you could do.

"Got it," Buck breathed and for a moment Vin was afraid he wouldn't be able to unbend his back, or if he did, he'd drop and dislocate both shoulders. Then Buck was right there beside him, grunting as he lifted himself, one leg giving something for Vin to brace against, to ease his descent.

He was light headed and soaked when he was down, toes touching the stone, body trembling.

"Breathe, Vin," Chris' raspy voice got to him and he took in a deep breath and opened his eyes, not sure when he'd closed them. "Always knew you were flexible," Chris said and Vin looked.

Chris was washed out pale, doing nothing to hold himself up, his shirt front and pants dark crimson, the fine lines on his face deeper and shadowed with pain. He was the most beautiful thing Vin had seen in his entire twenty-seven years.

"Ain't seen nothing yet, Larabee," Vin shot back, his voice shaking but he smiled and closed his eyes again, pretending he was at the gym, the beach, anywhere. Opening his eyes had only reminded him how small the room was, how close and hot.

It took Buck time, the knife sharp but awkward to handle with one hand and Buck chewing the corner of his mustache as he concentrated on not dropping the knife as much as he did on cutting through the ropes at his wrists. Then he grunted and pulled his arms down, the cuffs still clanking against the pipe.

"Get Chris down," Vin whispered when Buck moved over him.

"You first, pard. Need you to listen for company," Buck said and it was easier, Buck caught him around the waist so he wouldn't fall when the rope gave. He steadied him for a moment until Vin nodded and moved to Chris. Vin caught him around the waist and lifted him to take the weight off Chris' arms. Chris' blood soaked through his shirt and Vin rested his forehead briefly on Chris' shoulder. He put pressure back on the wound in front and ground his teeth together when Chris groaned softly. The pad had worked free. Vin's arms trembled as he held his lover, breathing deeply until he felt the weight of him, Buck helping him to ease Chris to floor, then moved on to Lawson and Hawkes: Lawson showing a lot of resiliency for a man his age as he helped get the trooper down.

Vin pulled off his Henley and asked Buck for the knife to tear the fabric, sleeves sliced through to make fresh pads and passed a strip of shirt over to Lawson to bind the hole in Hawkes' leg. Buck listened at the door, tested it and found it unlocked.

Chris stayed conscious but he was fighting for it, watching Vin's face as his wounds were padded and bound again, this time around his thigh and hips with strips from the stretchy fabric. Vin could feel the green eyes on his face but he didn't dare look. Chris had lost a lot of blood and Vin was afraid he might see something in those eyes he wasn't ready for, like goodbye. His breath caught when he felt Chris' hand on his wrist, then closing over his fingers. Vin squeezed back but still didn't want to look.

He did anyway, a few seconds hanging between them, and he bent low because Chris was barely whispering. "Don't need to ask, Vin," Chris said and a flash of anger ran through him. That Chris would say this now, here, left him feeling bruised and confused. Chris didn't miss it, almost smiling when Vin scowled at him.

"Fuck you, Larabee," he said softly and then almost choked on the raw rush of exposed emotion he felt when Chris smiled a little bit more. Anger being so much better than fear, "Fuck you," he said again, wishing Chris was strong enough that he could deck him. Instead he only brushed his lips across Chris' forehead, not caring who saw.

"Vin," Buck was also whispering but louder and Vin squeezed Chris' hand once more before pivoting and rising, joining Buck at the door. "One, armed." Buck said.

Vin nodded and crouched as Buck eased the door open and lunged, going high, hand covering their guard's mouth before he could cry out, Vin taking the man out at the knees. Buck wasn't gentle and he was pissed off. Vin plucked the sidearm neatly from the falling body and offered it to Buck who shook his head as they dragged the man inside. Checking the loads, Vin hunted through the man's pockets and came up empty. "Fifteen rounds."

"We can't go out the front," Buck said softly.

"We're more than four hundred yards in," Lawson said quietly. "Older, original part of the mine. Might be an airshaft close by if they haven't blocked it, but I'd think not...pump's in here. Make sense to use the old shaft and it should be close by."

"Can we get out that way?" Vin asked.

"Might could. Some of them were small, foot across, but if it's older...not so much precision...could be three feet across, angled toward the surface," Lawson said. "Have no idea how deep though."

"I can check," Vin said, looking at Buck who shook his head.

"We may only get one shot at this. We go together," Buck said and knelt by Chris. "This is gonna hurt, cowboy. Better if you passed out now."

"Do my best," Chris said, but didn't quite manage it as Buck caught his arms and pulled him upright then got his shoulder under Chris' middle. Chris grunted but didn't cry out, but his grip on consciousness was tenuous. Lawson got a better grip on Hawkes' waist and the arm across his shoulder and Vin opened the door. He could hear voices back the way they'd come and he played guard as Lawson and Hawkes then Buck and Chris came out of the room and moved down the tunnel, heading deeper, Vin watching their backs.

"Shit," Buck said softly and Vin almost backed into him, following the bigger man's gaze to the floor. Blocks of C-4 lined the tunnel, connected together by wires, enough to bring half the mountain down on them. Empty crates and diesel drums lined the walls, the refuse of the operation. "They are going to a lot of trouble to hide their tracks."

Lawson kept moving, Vin looking up to see what the man was tracking and saw the pipes and ducts overhead. The mine continued, less equipment and more shoring, scattered rocks on the floor showing the years of disuse and not a part of the mine Collins and his people were using or whoever was funding this because there was no way Collins had outfitted this cache on his own. But he knew where the funding had come from...who had started this and he fought to keep the bile down.

Lawson stopped and pointed. The pipes bent and went up, the accordion duct following up a narrow hole, but Vin could feel fresher air on his face. It was wide enough, even for Buck's broad shoulders, angled in, and when Vin looked he couldn't see directly to the sky, but he could see light on the damp, rough walls of the shaft.

"Belts," Buck said, fastening his own around Chris' chest. "Hawkes, can you make this?"

"You get me up and I'll get out faster than a gopher," Hawkes said gamely, pulling his own belt.

Vin stared upward, the surface was rough enough and the pipes would give them something to pull against. Buck was building a harness of sorts to help them pull Chris along. He knelt down to help, forcing himself to breathe deeply and steadily.

"You go first, Buck. I'll cover our backs," he said, adding his belt to the line of them.

"No," Chris said, and gripped Vin's arm. "You first, take the gun," he said struggling for the words, his fingernails digging into Vin's arm with surprising strength.

"Chris..." Vin stared at him, willing him to think straight. The shaft was narrow and solid and Vin had no idea what was above them, if he could get through -- even if there was nothing in his way. "If I freeze..."

"You won't," Chris said harshly. "If you do, none of us will get out."

Which was exactly what Vin was afraid of. He looked up at Buck but found no support there, only compassion and resolve. "All or none, Vin."

Vin swallowed and then tucked the gun at the back of his jeans. He and Buck moved a barrel and Vin climbed up. Both of them dropped at a shot from behind them, echoing against the stone. Two rounds and then there was silence, except for the heavy fast beat of their hearts.

"You, Hawkes, then Chris, then Carl and me," Buck said softly and urgently and Vin nodded. Buck passed Hawkes the looped ends of the belt and Vin wrapped it around the trooper's right wrist, meeting Hawkes' eyes.

"I won't let go," Hawkes promised. Vin gave him a terse nod and gripped the pipe to pull himself upward.

The rock was slick and moist which made it difficult to get a grip on but Vin could see how much easier it would make it to pull Chris up. It angled and widened a little about six feet up but there was another ten or twelve feet beyond that before it bent again.

Using the pipe to pull himself along Vin closed his eyes once more. He could hear Hawkes, felt a brief brush of a hand on his foot and pulled himself upwards some more.

It wasn't the close space, it was the not getting out. He pushed the flat of his hand against the stone, afraid it was moving in, flexed his arms and kept moving. Every muscle ached and trembled and not all of it from strain. //Six feet then ten then...keep moving,// He made himself move, hearing Hawkes below him, already moving into the shaft. He had to roll to his side to make the angle change, face pressed to the stone and he smelled must and rot and dank slime, felt it on his skin. He twisted again, getting his face away from the stone and gripped the pipe again to pull himself upward. Vin's jeans snagged on one of the clamps holding the pipe to the rock and he struggled, knowing he was breathing too shallow and too fast. The cloth tore finally and he pulled more, braced his feet against the sides and pulled, although his arm felt like it was going to come off. The rock was dryer, the passage wider and Vin found a brief patch of sky to stare at for a moment before rolling to his back. He pulled the gun and caught the edge, hauling himself up, wiping blindly at eyes that were blurry and stinging.

A quick check around the shaft opening for anyone watching as a new fear piled on top of the old but he saw nothing. Bracing his feet he peered back down and saw Hawkes' face, pale and strained but he hadn't lied -- he hadn't let go. He used his good leg and his arm to pull himself up, the leather still wrapped around his wrist. There was some slack with nine feet of leather. Another breath and Vin leaned in, shifting to brace his feet against the sides of the opening. Then he had Hawkes' hand and a moment later his own fingers wrapped around the tether so Hawkes could get his hand free and haul himself out. The trooper lay back for just a moment then pulled himself up to help Vin haul Chris up. Lawson pushing from below.

How Chris had stayed conscious, Vin didn't know -- pure ornery cussedness he decided, but he smiled down at the green eyes blinking owlishly at him. He had to lower himself into the opening a bit more because Chris couldn't find the strength to push against the rock, although he tried. Vin found hidden reserves when his fingers closed around his partner's wrist and pulled, Hawkes keeping tension on the belts and then helping Vin pull Chris clear of the hole. Vin set himself against a tree near the shaft opening, holding Chris for a moment and checking to make sure they were still clear.

Lawson was red faced and failing but he cleared as well, laying back and Vin left him, waiting for Buck. He came up fast and Vin heard shouts below, tensing. Buck didn't hardly get a chance to catch his breath. "Move. They know and they aren't waiting...." he snapped and grabbed for Chris, not even stopping to apologize and Chris let out the first real cry of pain Vin had heard but he didn't wait to help. Buck's eyes were wide and panicked while Vin got Hawkes and Lawson up and moving, further away and faster than any of them thought they could move.

The ground erupted under them, buckling like an earthquake, the low rumbling shaking their bones as it climbed up from deep within the stone, all of them knocked flat. Vin caught his breath, coughed and scrambled to where Buck had fallen but was stirring while Chris was laying still. He pulled Chris to him as the ground heaved. He could feel the shock wave as smoke and dust and debris shot out of the air shaft they'd climbed, now a few hundred feet behind them.

Vin watched in horror as the ground behind them collapsed in on itself, opening a deeper ravine, a crevasse that cracked and settled and then seemed to sink -- an invisible giant leaving his foot prints on the land and coming closer. Vin waited for the ground to collapse beneath them as well but it only shook, sent rocks and debris sliding by them, an ache through his spine, but they'd passed the deep end of the mine. The ground remained remarkably, miraculously, whole and solid.

It all settled, save for the dust, trees cracking and tumbling, Vin reminded of watching demolitionists taking old buildings down. Then it was silent. Only his own breathing, and that of his companions, could be heard and a random skittering of rocks as the new landscape settled. Vin wondered if he were deaf after all.

It didn't matter though because he could feel Chris' breath on his arm, irregular but warm. He stroked the blonde hair, pressed his free hand against the wound on Chris' hip and breathed.

A few moments later he heard the sound of chopper blades slicing the air. The cavalry had arrived.

~end part four~ 

 

Part Five

Everything Chris knew came to him in pieces, glimpsed through a kaleidoscope view of fractured moments and sounds, movement and smells. Vin's face: bruised and tired but smiling, then vanishing in a dizzying lift as he was loaded into a basket and hauled upward. He closed his eyes as the blades came closer and closer and unfamiliar faces bent over his own.

More unfamiliar faces and bright lights, pain in his arm and he tried to tell them to be careful of his shirt because it was borrowed. Then he clung to the bloody but still bright orange bandana before they could throw it away with the other blood soaked cloths and they let him have it because he was agitated.

No, you idiots, I've been shot and I can't seem to ask any questions and Jesus, how had it all gone so bad so fast? His mind was clear for long minutes then it would gray and blank over before he could actually ask the questions that were driving him crazy. He fought the sickly sweet smell of the anesthetic because it smelled too much like cordite and wet earth and the sweat on Vin's skin. He thought he heard Adam crying and struggled to find him but then it was Vin's voice, choked and weak and calling his name. Screaming his name and it was all wrong. Vin didn't scream. Vin never showed anything unless they were private and there were far too many people, too many voices for Vin to show his fear so openly.

The lights weren't as bright when he opened his eyes once more and stared up at the perforated tiles of the ceiling, the one directly over his head was kind of beige and brown at the corners instead of white. Water damage or something. The others around it looked newer.

He didn't feel anything but sore and even that was kind of fuzzy around the edges. He lifted his hand, staring at the IV needle in the back of it and following the line up to the bag of fluids then down, all of it looking a little blurred still as did the sprawled figure in the chair next to his bed. Chris blinked and then wanted to close his eyes again, slip back into the warm fuzziness. He swallowed and found his throat dry. He tried to move but his left leg wouldn't obey and a flare of panic raced through him.

"Easy, Chris," the drawl was pronounced, the voice raspier than usual, the way it got when Vin was too tired or too emotional or just straining his throat holding back words that he wouldn't let be said. But he held a cup of cool water and a straw and for now, he could hold back any words he wanted.

His fingers flexed and felt empty. He'd lost Vin's bandana somewhere along the way and he hadn't meant to. He'd wanted to wash it and press it maybe and give it back to him just to let Vin know Chris knew he'd saved his life. Not like he couldn't expect it or Vin couldn't count on it were their positions reversed, but he still felt he ought to let Vin know that he knew what he'd done. What Buck had done.

What Collins had done. Too much of it came back too fast and Chris tried to take a deep breath. The emptiness in his hand was filled, Vin's palm warm against his own and strong as he raised Chris' arm and clasped his fingers. "Collins?" Chris asked and it wasn't what he meant to say at all but Vin didn't seem to notice.

"Dead. Winston as well." Vin kept it short, eyes searching Chris' face as if to gauge how much of this he would retain. The fingers of his free hand danced lightly across Chris' forehead and his thumb traced the cut above his eyes lightly before pushing his bangs back.

"What time is it?"

The blue eyes didn't search for a watch or a clock. "After two a.m. You're in the Larimer County regional hospital, in Ft. Collins. Hawkes is down the hall. Lawson as well."

"Lawson?" Chris fought for it, trying to catch up with Vin.

"Concussion from the blast. He'll be okay. So will you."

Chris closed his eyes, tightening his grip on Vin's hand and glad he could do so. When he opened them again, Vin was still looking at him, gaze fixed somewhere above Chris' left eye. His fingers hadn't stopped stroking through Chris' hair and Chris decided right then and there if he died, he was coming back as a cat. Preferably Vin's cat.

"Something funny, Larabee?" Vin asked, voice husky soft and he was smiling a little too.

"No. Not really. I take it I'm going to live?"

"'Fraid so," Vin said. "You needed an oil change though: about four quarts," he said and while he was still smiling, it only touched his lips. Chris hadn't realized he'd been that close. He knew he was losing blood, could still feel the dampness on his skin as his blood soaked through his clothes. "Nicked an artery, doc said. You aren't going to be moving that leg for a few days." Vin glanced down and Chris followed his gaze. It took a moment to realize why he couldn't move it -- sandbags held the limb immobile, propped on a pillow and the knee flexed. "Couple of weeks on crutches, then a cane," Vin continued, speaking quietly. His tone wasn't flat but it wasn't easy either.

Chris really wanted to know what had happened but he wasn't sure he could stay awake long enough to hear it all. "You supposed to be here?" he asked. Vin had showered somewhere along the way. There was a fresh bandage on his arm, the T-shirt clean if rumpled. His hair was glossy and clean but tangled as if Vin had been running his fingers through it too often.

"Ain't supposed to be anywhere else," Vin answered. "And you're supposed to be sleeping."

Chris supposed that was true and God knew he felt tired enough to do it. He closed his eyes again, just wanting to rest because he did want to know...even if Vin had to explain it to him all over again in the morning...later in the morning. They were supposed to talk about something and he struggled for that too, fought to remember whatever it was.

"Go to sleep, Chris," Vin said, against his mouth, a light brush of lips against his own and it was permission enough, reason enough for Chris to give in. It was important: he would remember in the morning.

________________________________________

He remembered some of it. He remembered Josiah and Buck coming in about six a.m. and waking Vin from where he'd fallen asleep leaning head and arms on Chris's bed, one hand still covering his partner's. He remembered Buck coming back to sit with him, asking him what he remembered which was, when it all got strung together, not very much.

He remembered the doctor coming in shortly afterward and checking the pulse on the inside of his thigh, the nurses carefully repositioning his leg and massaging it so he wouldn't cramp. It was actually late afternoon before the rest of the pieces started to fit together.

They were excavating the site. Early on they'd found Collins and Winston, at the outlying edge of the ravine, buried under the rock and dirt but the explosion hadn't killed them. A bullet fired at close range at the back of their skulls had done that.

There were missing pieces still. Too many for Chris to be comfortable with and not the least of those was Anthony Hartman's involvement. They hadn't been able to pin anything on him other than a possible assist in a felonious purchase of ceramics after Chen Juarez died. Not worth the DA's time and Vin had been the only one to see and recognize him in the mine. It was enough for Chris though and there was a warrant being processed by the time the nurse came in to swap out his IV's.

They'd stopped some of the guns. The blast had shaken up the ground for miles and destabilized the avalanche wash the tracking team had crossed. Two trucks were stopped by the landslide that followed. The drivers and passengers fled, leaving trucks and guns. They already had two of them in custody and the State Troopers were highly motivated to help the ATF find the others. Chris didn't envy anyone the Internal Investigation the involvement of Collins and Winston would generate. He also had no sympathy.

Even with the two drivers, they didn't have much. They were hired help. Running guns up to buyers who drove their RV's to the National Park and the Red Feather's Lake area to camp for a weekend and left with coolers full of assault weapons rather than fish. A very sweet set up and one that had been operating for several years.

The only other thing they knew was that it had been the plan to blow the mine all along. A week or ten days or a month from now, the DOT would be blasting right through that area and the mine owner had wanted to make sure they didn't accidentally find anything they shouldn't. The SNAFU with the C-4 had moved their timetable up considerably.

The day Chris was scheduled to be released from the hospital they found Mark Todd's body. Executed as Collins and Winston had been. Hank Davis had been luckier than he knew that the four men who had hijacked his truck hadn't been given more specific orders about covering their tracks.

They'd be months trying to tie up the loose ends.

Cody Hawkes had come by twice to see Chris. Once while still in the hospital and the day he was discharged. He'd apologized personally for both Collins and Winston and Chris let him. Then he thanked the man for helping to save his life. The bits and pieces had come together, Chris remembering the air shaft and Buck telling him quietly that Hawkes had hauled him up, wounded but determined. Chris gave Hawkes his card and Orrin Travis' direct office number. "You ever decide you might want to work for the Feds instead of the state, you call me," Chris said and meant it.

Carl Lawson didn't do much more than shake Chris' hand and spend a long time with Vin. He'd known Matt Collins for a long time. He didn't apologize for the man, didn't even mention his name. Just wished Chris good luck and told him if he ever needed a tracker to call someone else. He was getting too old for that kind of adventure.

A week before they'd let him get up and put anything like pressure on his leg then he was cautioned, sternly, to take it easy, to look for any kind of bruising or increased tenderness at his hip. Vin offered to shoot him in the knee when he balked at the four week stricture on crutches. Buck offered to sign for the ammunition.

It was pretty anti-climactic after that. He made it home in the back of a rented Land-Rover, his truck still in the evidence lock up and Chris nearly resigned himself to having to buy a new one. Travis signed off on the rental and once back at the ranch, Chris swapped it for an F-150 -- which he couldn't drive, but Vin could and did, making the daily trip to the office and back again while Chris was laid up. He did manage to get into the office twice: once to complete his statement of events and then again to go over it with McMillan whose team would do the follow up. Chris asked for and got Richard McMillan's promise that if anything turned up on Anthony Hartman he would let Chris know.

It was days before he realized Vin wasn't sleeping. Chris was on drugs at first, the hip pain enough to make him wonder if staying in bed all the time wouldn't be better. But he didn't. He got up and moved, suffered the aches and rawness under his arms from the crutches, did his exercises and went to his follow-ups and took the drugs to make sure he slept at night. Vin in bed with him made sure he slept well. Then he was off the pain killers but he was so fucking tired all the time, he wondered if the drugs weren't better.

Vin gave him shit about generic blood low in iron and made him eat a lot of soup and take vitamins and went to bed when Chris couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. But off the drugs Chris became aware of all the little signs he'd been missing. The drugs had filed the edges off. Vin would lay down, fall asleep and then a couple of hours later, he'd wake up, remaining quiet and still but his body was all wrong. Too tense, almost too still.

He actually gasped out loud in shock and something else the first time Chris was awake enough to realize his lover wasn't asleep, awake enough to actually try and help by stroking Vin's shoulder to let him know. The tension left a few moments later though and Chris dismissed it, at least consciously.

Until it became obvious and Chris realized it wasn't a night's insomnia or an intermittent nightmare. It was every night. Almost on schedule and it took a few days to realize why Vin had been awake in his hospital room at two a.m. after a day that had to have left him physically exhausted. He didn't ask at first, hoping Vin would find a way to tell him, once he realized Chris knew he was waking up.

When the nightmares started driving Vin from their bed, Chris stopped waiting.

"You going to tell me, or do you think I like watching you suffer?" Chris asked following Vin into the living room one night when a few caresses hadn't eased Vin back to sleep. He hadn't actually meant for it to come out that annoyed but he was, and worried.

"Not suffering, just not sleeping," Vin had shot back without any indication of how ridiculous that sounded. He glanced at Chris who set his crutches aside to ease down on the sofa next to Vin who immediately got up and laid fresh logs in the fireplace. He got them started even though the house was warm enough. When he returned, he sat on the floor, next to Chris' legs.

"Truck? Air shaft?" Chris was guessing because Vin wasn't talking. Vin shook his head and pushed his hair back only to find Chris' hand there and he caught it, twisting a little, onto his hip and thighs and hooked an arm around Chris' knee.

When he spoke, Chris knew his voice would be rough, could almost see Vin fighting back against the words and the fear. "All that...and the explosion...the ground...just collapsing in and I thought we'd go with it."

Chris didn't remember it. Buck had picked him up so fast and so hard, and he'd already lost so much blood. Consciousness had left him pretty quickly. Buck only remembered the ground heaving and rushing up to meet them, and falling. Chris had come to when the medics dropped in, vaguely aware he was in Vin's lap and then he wasn't. He was riding up and spinning, wanting to throw up and hadn't even had the strength to do more than think about it.

"Being buried," Chris said, stroking through the thick dark hair and he was startled when Vin shook his head again.

"No. Being...it would be over. Wouldn't have to worry if I was gonna lose you or...worry if you'd lose me...it'd be done."

Chris' hand stilled, sharp fear lancing through him at the idea that Vin might be suicidal and it was gone as fast as it came because that would be too easy and Vin Tanner never did anything the easy way.

Vin pulled away from him in a smooth but restless move and got to his feet, moved back to the fireplace and folded his arms like he couldn't get warm enough. Too late and Chris remembered what he'd wanted to talk about, what they needed to talk about.

"In the dreams...it doesn't happen that way," Vin said, quietly and Chris was more shaken than he'd thought he'd be. "I try to hang on for you...but I cain't. I just fall and I can't get your face outta my mind."

That took even longer to sink in and Chris was almost sorry he'd asked. There, in that stark room under the ground, watching Vin's face as the walls closed in and knowing...then and there...that he didn't need a promise from Vin. He'd wanted to tell him that he wasn't leaving him, wasn't giving up, would hold on as long as it took just so he could tell Vin he wasn't afraid anymore.

Maybe he hadn't really given up his fear. Maybe Vin had just managed to find a way to take it from him, bear it for him because Chris couldn't. Somewhere in all that, Vin had let go, was still letting go and Chris couldn't help but think it was partly his fault.

"I slept a lot better before I met you, cowboy," Vin said and he was still quiet but it wasn't quite the accusation it could have been, not with Vin smiling like he'd been the butt of a particularly ironic joke.

"I didn't." It sprang to his lips without him really thinking about it and Vin chuckled, low and soft.

"Reckon that's all right, then. It'll pass, Chris."

Chris wasn't so sure but he got up anyway, ignored the glare he got from Vin when he didn't use his crutches and laid his hands on the bare warm skin. Vin had said dreams, not nightmares and Chris wondered if there wasn't an important distinction there. "I can hold on too, Vin."

"Yeah. You do that pretty well," Vin said and turned to him. "I can only promise to try--"

Chris covered Vin's mouth with his own, taking that promise and swallowing it, breathing it in and feeling it flood his body, his blood. Maybe his soul too. The tension left Vin so easily it took Chris' breath away. "Tell me what I can do?" he has to ask, because Vin won't tell him otherwise, half expecting Vin to tell him it was enough. He wasn't quite prepared for the gleam in the blue eyes or the twitch of the full lips. "How do you feel about Texas in December?"

~end part five~

Epilogue 

 

"God, Vin, could this place be any further out?" Chris asked, staring at the flat landscape of scrub and gnarled pines and dusty beige land.

"Well, property goes out another hundred acres so, yeah. If I moved the house," Vin said and grinned when Chris cut loose a soft expletive that had something to do with smart-assed Texans. Vin ignored him as he had for the better part of the last half hour, except for one jab about soft as melted butter city boys.

It was longer than Vin remembered or just more open, so different from Denver although Vin wasn't going to regret being here when they'd left Denver covered in ten feet of snow and more expected in. Here he was back to short sleeves and jeans with no long underwear and nothing Chris Larabee could say would convince Vin that his lover liked him bundled up in layers of clothing. Not when he'd been complaining about having to unbundle him nearly every night for the past month.

Although Vin had to admit that the unbundling part had its good points. They'd done a bit of that on landing in San Antonio.

He hadn't flinched at getting on a plane. He hadn't quite thought that through yet, and it bothered him still, the close confines, but he hadn't really sought to convince Chris they could drive. He was glad to get off but other than wishing he could stretch his legs a little further, the plane hadn't bothered him. The boarding tunnel leading to the plane had though, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that yet either.

"Keep your boots on, Larabee...we're here," Vin said, maneuvering the rented truck down a road that was gully washed and broken. That much hadn't changed.

Neither had anything else. The house was still there and Vin had called and gotten the land agent to come out and prime the well and the reservoir, get the power going -- always an iffy bet since the power lines leading to the place had to be fifty years old, if not more.

He let his gaze flicker to Chris' face and watched the man lean forward, green eyes taking in the details as Vin slowed the truck and then pulled it up beside the porch.

It wasn't much and never had been despite its clapboard outside that at least gave the illusion of the house being built all at once when really it had been more like four rooms built against each other with a porch thrown on the front. And that only because there was an older dry well underneath it and Vin's grandfather hadn't wanted to take the trouble to fill it in.

They'd stopped in Three Rivers to get supplies but even looking through the windows, Vin could tell the land agent had sent someone out to clean a bit -- a good bet since he could see through the windows when usually they were fogged with dust.

Chris got out slowly but only looking, he'd been off the crutches and the cane for a couple of weeks and even having been laid up for nearly a month had left him with more than enough time to take this four day weekend two weeks before Christmas.

Vin had thought about asking Chris to celebrate Christmas here, but the thought had died without being voiced. Christmas was for everything and everyone they cared about and this place...wasn't. Vin wasn't sure what it was to him any longer save some part of him had stilled and gone calm the minute they'd turned off the dirt path to the house, following the telephone and power lines out into nowhere and stopping when they did.

Vin grabbed one cooler and Chris the other, taking the perishables in and Vin wasn't surprised to find the door unlocked. He wasn't sure he even knew where the key was any longer -- not on his ring. Somewhere under the steps he thought.

The main room was a combination of kitchen and living room, the plank floors swept clean, the furniture dusted but the covering of sheets was still on the old sofa and chair. The stove was still a wood one and the refrigerator small, Vin aware of its capacity when they picked up the groceries.

There was a single bedroom and a very small bathroom with a stall shower only, built into what had once been part of the storeroom and back porch, now enclosed just for storage. Four small rooms and a hundred acres of land before they ran into a boundary of any kind. Out back was the pump house and water reservoir and Vin could almost feel the pump working through the floorboards.

Chris was looking around and Vin leaned on the old porcelain topped metal table to watch him, caught his raised eyebrow at the bedroom which was probably the largest room in the house and small for that with the big double bed and the dresser and the smaller single bed.

"Yours?" he asked looking at the single and Vin nodded.

"Kept it because...he built it," Vin said and Chris walked in to touch the hand turned posts. It was narrower than standard and the mattress wasn't really a mattress but a set of old sofa cushions that just fit the strapped frame. "I'd been with him about a month, sleeping in that bed with him," Vin said, coming to lean on the door frame next to Chris, studying the small room, picking over the memories. "Came home from school one day and it was there all made up, with my own pillow and my blanket. He said I was big enough to have my own bed. I was...six, I think. Never slept in my own bed. Used to sleep in his though, when he'd have to leave me overnight."

Chris looked at him and Vin could see it in his face, the idea of a man leaving a child that young on his own.

"Wasn't often. He worked some, in Three Rivers at the glass plant. Not sure what he did. Or he'd hunt...come back with rabbits or quail or a deer now and again. When I was seven he started taking me with him when he hunted. I'd have rather stayed here."

Vin had never talked much about his grandfather, not in detail. Chris asking once before and Vin had only said what needed to be said, that his Grandfather had taken him in after his mother died. That their names had been the same which meant Vin was most likely a bastard but his grandfather had never spoken of it, rarely spoke of Vin's mother. That he'd been stern and quiet and had treated Vin as if he belonged where he was. Earl Tanner had been neither affectionate nor cruel. Vin had only one picture of him and he kept it here, nodding at it and studying it himself while Chris looked at the single framed picture of an unsmiling man who nevertheless didn't have an unkind face. Younger in the picture, sitting stiffly with his bride who Vin had never met. She had Vin's dark hair and curls even though her hair was swept up, her dress simple and neat. What family resemblance was there was with Vin's grandmother. Earl Tanner had been a big man, tall and broad, with a square face and eyes that might have been blue but the photo was black and white, starting to turn brown.

They finished unloading the truck and Vin watched Chris a little worriedly. The house was bare bones. There was no television or stereo and the radio needed new batteries. There was little sound at all except them moving about which made the floorboards creak. Chris seemed to be okay though, smiling and asking a few questions while they fixed some dinner. Questions about the land, the well, wanting to see the pump and reservoir, the generator that kept the power going when the power from the city cut out, which, Vin admitted, was fairly often.

After dinner Vin followed him onto the porch with coffee to find Chris staring out at the land, the low rises and falls and clumps of foliage and growth. There was growth here and more than Vin recalled, the reservoir feeding the water table and the plant life sucking up what it could get.

But it was quiet. It was almost entirely silent and Vin felt that silence creep into him, the stillness, the unchanging endurance of the land.

"Scary as it is, Vin, this place suits you," Chris said and Vin smiled.

"Sometimes. Not all the time."

"Well, thank God for that, because this place is...the backside of nowhere." Chris grinned and Vin laughed at him, at the thought. It was true.

"It is that. For now, anyway." He took a breath. "It doesn't change much. I can change it, a bit...but mostly...it's the same. Smaller than I remember. When I was here...it seemed so huge. Asked him once why he wanted to own so much...couldn't farm it. Couldn't run horses really, or cattle. There's mining now and...tourists," he said with a snort.

"What did he say?"

Vin turned and put his back to the post, almost too aware of how often he and Chris stood like this and talked on Chris' porch. Like the distance had to be just enough for the words to get out. "He didn't. He grabbed a canteen and his rifle and some biscuits. Two blankets, mine and his, and started walking. I went with him. We walked it, the whole damn thing. Took us a day. Stopped us there," he chinned a direction past Chris' shoulder, a low rise with a couple of gnarled trees. "Shot a rabbit, built a fire and we slept there, within sight of the house. I think he was wondering, waiting to see if I'd go back but I didn't. Stayed there, ate burned rabbit and cold biscuits and spent the night staring up at stars that would have looked the same no matter where we'd stopped. Never said anything more. When I was ten, the year before he died, I did it again, walked it, slept out."

He looked at Chris, studied him, the easy way he leaned, the way he moved when Vin's scrutiny became obvious and Vin moistened his lips when he looked into Chris' face, saw both patience and impatience there, watched Chris struggle to understand. Wasn't fair really. It had taken Vin three years to even start to and most of his life to get it all. "What I can touch in a day, Chris. That's what's mine," he said finally and saw it take hold in Chris' mind, the intelligence in the green eyes catching on faster to the words when Vin knew his own ability to understand was limited to what he could experience.

He closed his eyes when Chris came to him, but he touched. He didn't need eyes to know where to place his hands, to know that he'd touch fabric and muscle. He didn't need to see to be able to taste the warm sweetness of Chris Larabee's lips and tongue for all that Chris might scowl and balk at being called sweet anything.

Maybe they should have brought a blanket out or sought the bed but the planks of the porch were worn smooth, and their discarded clothes were padding enough. He did open his eyes when Chris touched him, reached within him, filled him by giving up a part of himself, maybe all of himself, and hung on to all of it when maybe he should have let go.

Could have and when they finally did seek the bed, the not so big double bed, arms and legs and bodies tangled together with Chris holding him lightly and his breath warm against Vin's chest, he did. He fell into dreams of falling and looked up to see Chris' face, waiting with fear and sorrow and saw nothing.

Until he was caught by arms that held fast and fell again into green eyes were as unchanging as the stars overhead.

Not all promises needed words.

~end~

12/21/2001 

 

References: District three http://csp.state.co.us/offices.htm

Index

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Vaguely follows "Saving Grace" although I think you can read this without absolutely having to read that first -- a couple of references but nothing of importance. (There's an arc building in here somewhere...I can feel it trying to sneak up on me. ) Disclaimers: The Magnificent 7 concepts and characters are the property of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, TNN, The Mirisch Corp., and probably a few writers and producers as well. Not mine. Never said they were. Ratings/Pairings: NC-17, slash, violence. Chris/Vin
> 
> Many thanks to MOG for the universe and her open door policy. Thanks to Killa and to Gayle and Marilyn for encouragement. It's unbeta'd -- applications are now being taken.... As always, comments of any kind are welcome, criticism will be respected and flames will be snickered at and dissected for content, grammar and originality. Send your words to maygra@bellsouth.net.
> 
>  
> 
> References: District three http://csp.state.co.us/offices.htm


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